For some reason I like trains, don’t ask me why, as I myself am wondering what is the motive behind it. Or am I not? Trains, let’s see, some railway mechanism which in fact, having some other technical-related stuff attached to, is carrying people from one place to another. Sounds dull, doesn’t it? Moreover, I bet most of you when hearing about trains halt on some ideas, actually, it’s like darting into them- Oh, no! trains, crowded, motion sickness, too much time wasted– but really, did you get the time to think deeper about it?
I sometimes compare trains with one particular thought, that thought that is striding away from you, when you simply can’t accept the reality- that kind of reality which yields grief, which just torments you; so as not to bear with those states, you try to quell the obvious lest to have your peace being terribly plundered by such deceit. Well, darling, does rooking all that you are assuage your mind? or your other pinky-thoughts? I might assume that it doesn’t, so don’t feel resentful, just escape that cowardliness which has its apparel consisting in lies.
You know it’s there, you’re mindful of it, but you want to blackmail your being by hijacking the state of indifference like the lousy thing you are; but you still feel it, yes, you do, you know it’s there, you know it won’t ever flee away. You assume it’s not your train, that it doesn’t go where you’d want to arrive, it just happens that it comes by your station, but there are no coincidences and you’re aware of it.
And you cease bewildering yourself, and you get that train. It’s convulsing and it hurts, but you aren’t part of that helter-skelter, not anymore.
I like trains, you actually don’t enter the crowded spaces, you escape them. Shall you choose the train with the railway being your mind? It’s somehow like a carousel, isn’t it?