It was like any small train out of the city which stops at all the small places between where its leaving and where it's going. Young people were nearly absent and with them too the fashion which covered the city streets, hiding what's underneath. The flashy signs and clicking heels which drive the mad, lonely and lost further from the child they once were and long again to be.
One stepped on the train and immediately remembered where they were going, where they had come from and the strange mystery which their life had become. People settled, and with them their noises, smells and thoughts. As we moved along those who weren't sleeping let their eyes melt away and drift along the edges of the landscape. And those who might see them would know how we all look alike when staring from windows, forgetting to remember anything at all.
