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Old 01-13-2018, 04:45 PM
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bluewpc (Offline)
The Next Bard
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sorry about the late update some jackass banned me.
@brian nooo this is all true god help me

A final tarry, a pause, a last intake of air ere our northern procession. As I was on a train I feel a word musts be spared for those noble machines, those silvern heralds of civilization. There is perhaps no better mode of transport than the train, certainly on land, and because they have not yet invented rails that can float upon the seas. Trains are depending, clunking, shuttling, telescoping, crowded tubes that oft offend the olfactories, are uncomfortable, glacial, thunderous as hurricanes and fitted with brakes that can reach pitches higher than the lusty breeding of caterwauls. And I do love them. For such cries are alarums that someone as arrived. But all of it I love. For who resents dependability? Who would speak ill of a well kept time schedule? And who hasnt been warmed by the cough of heat pipes on a winter night? If their fuselages are crowded well what of it? All transports are crowded atimes and so it is not an unique fault and any smell too is really the fault of man and not his invention.

Are there other overland modes? Verily. Can any compare to the beast? No. A bus will reach any destination it is true but what a controlled environment. An intercity bus? Why thats not time enough to get lost in yourself. Sit here, sleep, abandon all congress and if youre lucky you can roll down the windows. Still a dice throw better true than being on an airplane for woe to the man who forgets his altitude and attempts to let in some fresh air. That will secure him a train ride! But look at how fast the wonder has gone from that invention. I feel it to be a crime against the soul that any man should be forced to suppress the oldest desire, that for fresh air, which even the lowliest cur is entitled to, and that the best that can be hoped for is the monotonously unpleasant breath of another stale and recycled and that none aboard have come from a country where the cuisine is fabled to be spicy. True it is with great loathing that I board any flight, although the greatest detraction may not be from the flight itself but the preceding two or three hours of being corralled and manhandled in the name of my security.

But on a train oh you may stretch out to sleep. You may dine at your leisure and even atimes take a late night perambulation while the distant lights of villages whisk by. The window of a train is always the framing for a picture. True theyre not as exciting as a marshutka which against the stacked odds of poor maintenance, shoddy roads, unsober drivers without too much tether to this mortal coil will for the daredevils or misers among us get us to the destination but I would advise anyone to bring their articles of faith or even take up religion for the duration of the trip. In all I would not reccommend to too often risk your life. But a train. A plane can be held up by as much as a poodle or some wayward mujahadeen but whenever was it told of a train hijacked and redirected to some desloate patch of the Sahara?

But a train. All transport has a melancholic element in their wheels but in trains is this sorrow most pronounced. Perhaps it is that even if you are returning home you feel yourself embarked upon an adventure. And embarked. For as land dwindles aftward so does the station disappear into the urban blur and the destination, perhaps days away, is no where in sight.

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Last edited by bluewpc; 01-13-2018 at 10:40 PM..
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