I like trains more than planes or busses.
I like to observe the people sitting in front of you. I like people with whom you’re not too close, whom you can look straight into the eyes, whose sight you can steal, from whose sight you can’t hide away. I like people who can’t fall asleep by accident on your shoulder, like they do on the bus. I like people who don’t ask you where are you coming from and where are you flying – business or visiting?
No, I’m moving.
I’m moving away and I’m not visiting, neither doing any business. Yet.
I LIKE TRAINS WHEN IT RAINS
Heavy water drops are crushing against the windows. It’s cold and wet outside, and you’re warm and cozy inside. You’re just passing by. Passing by this weather, this stage of nature, and mind.
At this stage of life you’re safe.
I like trains because they feel safe. There’s no race, there’s no rush. And in case of an accident, emergency or conquest you can always run into the woods.
I don’t swim well, boats are cool and sailing is awesome, but I don’t swim well, so it’s unsafe. And planes, who is saint and safe up there anyway? I don’t know how to fly and I don’t swim.
But I can crawl and I can run, so trains are safe for me.
I LIKE THE SOUND OF A TRAIN
I like trains because they’re quiet and strong. There’s a sophistication and the sense of history in the sound of a train. The sound of a train is the sound of an honest and hard-working man. He passes the tunnels, jumps over the lakes, runs the pine forests and walks in the lavender fields. The sound of the train is calm but strong, and certainly promising. Breath-taking green sights, which you can touch with your eyes, clear lakes, small villages, even the graffiti-painted suburbs… they’re all promising, promised lands.
So I pack my bags and buy my one-way ticket. And off I go, towards the promised land.
Steve Reich – Different Trains (Part 1)
A dedication to my dear grandfather Nikolai, who served the rails over 50 years, who taught me the greatness of simplicity, unlimited kindness and the beauty of each moment in life. To my grandfather, who never stopped loving my outspoken sarcasm and goofy dance moves while growing up.