Last friday

Isn't it all so much more mystical for me, on traintracks, crossing the Delaware effortlessly, gazing through a pane of glass one hundred feet above the water, on a bridge, with dull gray lights glancing off of the waves like George Washington would.

We waved as we passed in opposite directions, from 121,466,880 minutes apart.

He was going to the Battle of Trenton. I was coming from the same.