do not touch.

trains rock.
they really do. enough so that simple things like walking, drinking or writing are suddenly awkward... like you're a toddler again.


you go kind of fast. but not as fast as i would think it could (or should) go. fast enough, i suppose.
fast enough so that you see an awful lot of countryside as you pass by... but you cannot touch any of it. it's funny. it feels such an intimate thing with the landscape to travel it by train, and such an untouchable thing at the same time.


we pass people.
some men on a shipping dock at seven twenty five a.m., coffee in hand, smile and wave like they have forgotten they're all grown up. not waving at me, but waving at my world this hour... waving at this rocking train on which i'm trying to take a sip of my water.
later we pass a father and son by a creek... more avid waving... more big smiles.


we keep moving. beautiful mountains,
deep ravines,
quaint old train stations in little towns,
the horn blows,
the sunlight flickers on my paper and pen...
i get to see these places from such a unique vantage point...
i cannot touch any of it...


but somehow it touches me.


1 comments:

Rachel Bostwick said...

Now I am even more jealous. I really want to go on a train. Sometimes I hear the train noise from my house and it makes me really happy.

 

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