Did I mention that the horn never let’s up?
Ringing out at every controlled and uncontrolled crossing, the honkening is incessant.
I guess it’s a good sign that there are roads out there, in the big empty blackness.
Sitting in the dome car at 5 am with the big empty of the Canadian Prairies, somewhere in Manitoba, west of Winnipeg (or maybe we crossed into Saskatchewan without noticing, it’s hard to say) one feels adrift in space, like an astronaut looking out the cupola into the void, with only occasional lights in the distance.
Probably felt by nighttime pilots, especially in WWII. Probably why we had those navy men turn to writing sci-fi in the 50s and 60s. Hmmm.
Also:
Ear buds, tomorrow. Definitely.