A few weeks back I was checking up on graffiti in Chelsea, and it was a nice day, so I kept walking north once I got to the end of the High Line. I found myself in that strange nowhereland west of the Port Authority Bus Terminal, where the Lincoln Tunnel sprays out into what seems like twenty ramps. I was trying to follow the route of the train line that runs down to Penn Station, but I kept losing it between the cuts. Eventually I gave up, because the sun was going down.