The Last Train of the Evening
There is a particular calm to a carriage no one is in a hurry to leave.
The last train of the evening keeps a different kind of company. Nobody on it is commuting; everyone is simply on their way somewhere they chose.
Unhurried miles
The windows go black and the carriage becomes a small lit room moving through the dark. You read a little, you doze, you arrive.
Slow travel is not a style. It is just paying attention to the journey you were taking anyway.
Book the later train when you can. The world looks better when you are not racing it.
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