Around this time last year, I was on the airport train at Barajas, heading to the terminal to catch my flight. Reminiscing in my mind about what lie ahead after the trip, I turned to my right, and saw the face of a young girl. She was crying. Feeling sad for her, I wondered what could have been the matter. It might have been anything. Her expression of emotion, and the fact that she was all alone, made such an impression on me. Although she was in public, she seemed as if no one was around her, and no one could feel her pain; but I did. That she even felt the freedom to let it go, unconcerned that dozens of people might be looking at her, seemed so humanlike to me. Most people would have kept their feelings bottled up inside, or feigned happiness. When the ride was coming to an end, I wanted to make some connection with her, a sympathetic look, or a gentle touch on her arm; but the lack of proximity to her didn’t lend itself to any gesture. My stop came along. She stayed on. I didn’t want to leave her behind, but as usual, I had to move on.