Day 9 - Tracks
I love train tracks. They seem dangerous and utilitarian and familiar and strange and from-another-time all at once, gritty and busted and strong.
Mostly I love train tracks because they say you are here and you are not here. I love that feeling. Here and headed elsewhere.
I am grateful to the people who labored and bent and could not possibly have received pay commensurate to the amount of work they did unless, of course, they found a way to stand off to the side, smoking, dreaming, while their co-workers moved ever forward.