As a youngster, I found train stations to be magical places. The screaming engines, swishing smoke chimneys that rose out of the beasts that pulled the beautiful red, blue, green bogies, beats of footsteps as people jogged, ran, walked, limped to…
Meadows flashed by. Green, brown, yellow, blue flashes of colors that blurred into one giant blur of landscape that delighted the senses moments before it was left behind for the next frame. Hanging by the window of the train, minutes…