Wednesday, 20 April 2005 | Waterfront property

I'd seen the abandoned subway car before, but since I'd last been there, Sean had figured out how to climb inside. We followed him to the edge of the East River and ducked underneath a torn chain-linked fence, the red wine in my plastic cup sloshing around and staining a couple of the large rocks below our feet. Sean kept reminding us that we needed to be quiet, and mentioned that he's been caught nine times before. He said the caretaker kind of hates him.

We hoisted ourselves through the front window and examined the car from the inside, admiring the pale green seats and unusual hand grips, made vintage by years of design evolution. It was hard to see our surroundings in the dark, so I took flash photos of the interior and looked at the LCD screen instead. From the window, we could see the bright and distant Statue of Liberty standing on the water, which seemed out of place from our isolated patch of rocks. I kept thinking the subway car might make a nice home for someone with relatively low standards, and I wondered why the place wasn't more popular with the homeless. It also occurred to me that it was roughly the same size and shape of my apartment.