The train

We always look when we see it thundering past in the distance during our walks.

“Look, the train.”

It’s something you’re no longer used to when living rural. Yet the high speed train became part of the landscape.

I always marvel with a sense of distaste at the amount of earth which had to be moved, the tunneling through the hills, the artificial mounts at the side. Landscape molded.

“Look, the train.”

What an utter sadness to think it  never made it to Santiago last night.

 

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