On a train, from Paris to Brussels, neatly arranged fields, houses, roads, passed as a blur. I was listening to Le Mans' album Saudade, whispered in Spanish against gentle guitars. The songs sound like heartbreak to me. The people on the train spoke French, a language a bit beyond my skills at the time. When asked a question, I would nod and smile. When asked anything at all, I would continue to nod and smile. Those can get one far in life.

Again on a train, from Cardiff to London, I watched the sun lazily set into red clouds. I listened to Blueboy's album Unisex; the five year old girl across the aisle sang Spice Girls songs. The fade from the string section to the cello and lightly strummed guitars on "So Catch Him"--I had had only enough money for tea and was sipping it slowly to make it last. The conductor announced Bristol as the next station. I thought about leaving the train there to search the city for relics of Sarah Records--the Glass Arcade, the Fountain Island, the sign for There And Back Again Lane. But it was 1997, and I also thought that perhaps those sites in the city would have disappeared as had the record label itself. Searching for shadows in the sunlight is a bit impractical. I continued to listen to Blueboy as the train wound its way through the countryside past church spires and into Paddington Station, back to where all paths seem to lead eventually. It was inevitable that I had found myself in London; for better or for worse, everyone does at some time in their life.

Why write about trains? The masses of steel, iron, glass, and smoke that comprise the carriages offer new possibilities, taking everyone... somewhere. The destination, near or far, is never as exciting as the travelling itself. The land outside rushes by as the train moves at speeds no human was meant to travel. The minutes tick down to the train's arrival, whilst watching other passengers milling about the station, smoking the last cigarette. The train could be late--adjust the scarf and rewind the cassette. With the headphones on, life has a soundtrack. It is a bit more pleasant that way.