Sunday, September 30, 2018
#273 / Sort Of Like A Poem
Green fields flash by. I see some cows. Woodlots and the river disappear behind. The train rocks. I look at the country. We are moving fast.
When the smokestacks and the dirty junk piles start showing in the window, I know this trip will be ending soon. I feel like I slept through most of it.
But I am awake now. Maybe I should write down what I know.
I am pretty sure I know some things.
Found in my personal photos collection