To watch a train go by takes more than we imagine. It is a habit shot through with the pointlessness of childhood and the magic of machines.
It is not simply the act of seeing the train enter your vision and watch it leave shortly after. It is also the timing of it all.
The anticipation of the unseen, the slow tremors of the ground heralding its imminent arrival from a distance.
The wind hugs your face, as your ears brace for impact.
All the science in the world cannot explain why the sound folds, but the soul rises.
And then it comes, like an expected storm, giving audience to its awed devotees.
The leviathan of metal, hurtling through the air, carrying bodies, and tearing through the heavy curtain of anticipation.
And just like that, it is gone.
The machine of great wonder. The promise of a better life. And the carrier of legends.
Very few scenes of departure evoke as much joy as those of arrival. But as a train leaves, it carries a million dreams in its slipstream.
To watch a train go by takes much more than we imagine.
It takes patience, timing and the strength of old loving shoulders to carry you to see it.
Same time tomorrow.
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