My time at Grand Central Station was normal. My group and I spent a good hour to two hours working on our story and observing the terminal. We experienced the bustling crowd of travelers going in and out of the structure, to wherever they were going to. The sort of disconnect that I unintentionally achieved through just sitting silently in the station was somehow comforting, becoming lost in the energy of existence. I feel that this place, as most others are in New York, is hard to handle if you tried to focus in on things when really you should be going with the flow. These are the times when I either want to question everything about being alive, or not think at all.