Sunday, May 4, 2014

Train travel

The train doesn't stop here anymore. Windows are boarded, the road has disappeared. Blown shingles and bent rails edge the unkept garden. 

To come here is to go someplace, though I'm not sure where. 

I hurry ahead faster than the train […] This way, for a fraction of a second, I'll see you approaching again. 

                - John Berger

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