Voyages, voyages, voyages

Rhythme de trains,

Rimes de la vie.

Le paysage défile

De l’autre côté des vitres.

Dedans, ma vie reste

En suspens -

Le temps d’un voyage

Clouds across the plains,

Scudding to the rhythm

Of the train.

Outside life is submissive

To the inside’s quiet.

Did I write the above during my train ride to Toulouse this spring, or during my train ride to

Argelès-sur-Mer at the end of the summer, or even on the train ride to Paris at the beginning

Of the summer ? I don’t remember, but every trip has similar elements.

Today’s no different (except perhaps in scenery and the architecture of the buildings) from yesterdays,

not tomorrows.

Never met a one that I didn’t enjoy and every discovery (even to places visited in the past) is a slightly

Different voyage.