Watched a young traveler sitting in the train hallway on a scooter. No good opportunity for a photograph, but we traded a glance - ships passing.
The young traveler had (t)hick blond hair cut round the ears, shorn off like wheat stalks. A helmet hung off a large backpack, stickered colourfully, like a bouquet of field flowers. Maybe twenty years old? Bright deep eyes.
Caught a man slipping on his sunglasses while still on the train, in order to check me out (busted).
A conductor came by and stood in the passage, waiting to pull his duties at the next stop. A dense mass of keys hung from his belt, and his right hand, time-thickened, rested next to them with quiet dignity.
The train slips through the countryside at a decent clip, trees blurring by into a pastiche, but sometimes one can catch a glimpse of wildlife. I saw a deer stepping through the undergrowth, long legs like a spider.
On the bus, later: a little hand reaching out of a baby carriage and clutching papa’s red t-shirt, lazy with summer warmth, a little loose, but tenacious. Papa, you’re not going anywhere: I’ll know you by your red shirt.