Cycles

by B.T.
Yesterday on the train I was looking through a book that a friend had given me.
“The Undressed Art”, a book about why humans draw. Interesting right? Yeah, but I actually have to read about it and I haven’t really read anything in a long time
I am the type who will pick up a book and keep it on my shelf for later when I can have time to sit and read and drink tea and eat buttered bread

I took the book on to the subway with me. I was looking through the book and the guy to my right said, “What’s the name of that book?”
It took me a second before I realized he was talking to me.
“What’s the name of that book?”, he said looking at me.
“Oh , this book?” I lifted the book to show him, but I knew it was too hard for him to see the name.
“The Undressed Art.” I said.
“Oh. How many cycles does it have?”
“Hm, excuse me?”
“How many cycles…cycles. How many do it have?”
“Cycles?” I don’t know what he means at first and then I thought. Maybe he means chapters. I was about to look, but I stopped because it didn’t make sense.
“Oh, it’s just one. It’s one book.” I said.
I think he was asking me if it was a book that belonged to a series. You know, like book 1 of 3 or something like that. I don’t really commit myself to written series. I haven’t even read in a long time. I only go to movies. You know Lord of the Rings and stuff like that.

He says, “Oh. You know reading is good for the mind, the brain.”
He points to his head, winks and continues, “You know, I only go out on Fridays, the rest of the week, I read and blah, blah, blah.”
I couldn’t make out the rest of what he was saying.
I smiled because I didn’t care.
I thought, ‘I am never really going to read this book, but just by holding it, I can fool everyone, even some guy who talks about reading and how it helps the brain. He must be bullshitting me because what does he know about my brain.
I looked at the book some more and really tried reading the first chapter a couple of times, but could not get into it. I have no attention span. Across from me was a woman who was reading the NY Post aggressively. She had the newspaper so close to her eyes, I thought about what she was reading. Probably crime. I had a headache.
I closed the book and looked over at the guy. He was sleeping. I was relieved that he was. I thought I would have to answer to him about why I closed the book. I didn’t want to talk anymore.
I got up when at my stop and looked over at him. He was awake now, but didn’t look at me. It was if we never spoke
Cycles.
My day was a cycle.
I got off the train thinking about what movie I was going to watch.