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I Was Home
#LastTrain
The rhythmic clatter of the train lulled me into a state of disquietude. I was a passenger on a journey with no destination, a traveler without a map. My memory was a blank canvas, the details of my life, the reasons for my journey, all washed away. All I knew was that I was on this train, gazing out the window at a landscape both familiar and alien.
The sun was setting, painting the sky in streaks of crimson and gold. The train rumbled through valleys where wildflowers danced in the breeze, and over rolling hills dotted with ancient, moss-covered ruins. The air was thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, a union of nature that seemed to echo my own internal disquiet.
But despite of the uncertainty, there was a strange sense of...
The rhythmic clatter of the train lulled me into a state of disquietude. I was a passenger on a journey with no destination, a traveler without a map. My memory was a blank canvas, the details of my life, the reasons for my journey, all washed away. All I knew was that I was on this train, gazing out the window at a landscape both familiar and alien.
The sun was setting, painting the sky in streaks of crimson and gold. The train rumbled through valleys where wildflowers danced in the breeze, and over rolling hills dotted with ancient, moss-covered ruins. The air was thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, a union of nature that seemed to echo my own internal disquiet.
But despite of the uncertainty, there was a strange sense of...
