Out the windows of our apartment this morning, in the foggy distance, I can see a subway train moving along the above ground tracks that emerge from the tunnel somewhere closer to the East River, in a neighborhood on the other side of our building, and that continue all the way to the end of the line in Queens. I see that train, or another one resembling it, almost every time I look up from the table where I’m sitting, either immediately or after a couple of minutes. The tracks are far enough from our apartment that I can hear the trains only faintly, along with other sounds of traffic. The sight of them gives me a feeling of peace, I don’t know why.