As his train crossed the Harlem River on that cloudy morning he never thought the journey would ever end. Perhaps it was due to the distinguished passengers aboard but it seemed that the train would never get to the other side.
In any case, he always enjoyed the ride, especially on cloudy days, when everything turned monochrome as though the colors had been leached away.

As time went on, he began to realize that something particularly curious was happening as even though he could see the river below it was flowing in the same direction as the train while the next bridge was getting closer and closer.



Salon.com
Comments
What happened is the words to finish your sentence popped into my head and I gave it a whirl. The altering (photoshopping) of the image went down a number of dead ends which looked OK, but "Not Quite" until it (whatever/whoever that is) said, "OK." Then the rest of the words popped into my head.
IMO those ideas come from some place wherever dreams come from and are then are accepted or rejected from some other place we typically call rational. There's only a sliver between building on what you said to "Kill Gabby" and receiving the "OK."