The world outside the window is bleak and grey. The bare tree trunks form grey shadows against the milky white sky, the thin branches radiating skywards like so many fingers. The buildings in the distance look deserted, like empty shells. We pass over some water but it is inky black, not a ripple on the surface, with sheets of broken ice floating dismally by the edge. The ground, clear of snow and ice despite the season is either a naked soil black or covered in sickly yellow grass. The dead world outside mirrors the emptiness inside me, a desolation of … Read the rest
The train is thundering through the kind of landscape that seems typical of the un-forrested parts of northern europe: open plains, groves of trees and small hillocks on the horizon. Everything is covered in a thin layer of snow, the black trunks of trees sticking out against the white. The thin pink streaks against the pale blue sky alert me to setting of the sun and despite the heater being set to Death Valley mode, I lean closer to the window and cringe my neck to look behind me. The western sky is brightly lit in that pinkish orange tone … Read the rest
There is a soft hum in the background and every once in a while a low squeaking can be heard. The train glides slowly, seemingly without effort, through the green landscape shifting from forest to field and back to forest again under a sky full of light clouds; mist creeps across the fields and to my right the sun is setting. The coach is short with only a few groups of seats in grey and white with wooden tables in between. The roof is domed like that of an airplane but with big windows stretching upwards. Except for me there … Read the rest
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