[Another piece of old writing, this time from Winter ’16. Here goes.]
Winter had descended upon Toronto, leaving the branches bare and any grass remaining in a brownish- greyish- rare sight. As a result, I can’t tell if the grass is greener on the other side of the pond.
The GO Trains, however, are a delightful shade of green that cut across the chilly view out of my window as I roll ever so slowly towards Burlington, where I will transfer to a bus that will take me to the Niagara FallsThere is something about trains and rail traveling that calms me. Perhaps it is the wide windows that unfolds an endless scroll of scenery in a movie-like fashion, ranging from puffy clouds, perfectly reflective buildings in cities, barns, and even the occasional school and its playing fields. Perhaps it is the predictability of it; a relatively predictable schedule and speed, that makes it possible to read, take a stroll, and of course, write.