Scattered

I took a train to Cambridge yesterday and only chose the destination based on my ability to find the cheapest possible tickets to whatever destination... I didn't care where. As I sat on the train watching the countryside pass me by, I wrote a few lines down:

"I can see the appeal of living a life with no strings attached, making the most of the company of people as they happen to cross your path... always moving forward as though soaring constantly towards the unknown. Perhaps I was a Gypsy in a past life?

Making the most of each encounter, no matter how trivial or brief, and learning from these encounters even when at first glance it all seemed pointless or meaningless - random...

I sometimes think back on my dear strangers in the night, these people who entered my life only briefly to offer a helping hand at the least expected moments... I think back on the kindness of strangers, and I wonder about the likes of Hector in Peru, of Kho in Hong Kong, and so many others before them... so many faces that waltzed into my life only too briefly like passengers on a train that only meant to stay on until the next stop. Somehow, these strangers remain etched on the side of a road less travelled - mine.

And as I think about them I wonder if they, too, sometimes wonder about me.

Watching the landscapes pass me by is like staring at an infinite blur made up of every imaginable shade of green the eye could possibly fathom. The mist of rain that weighs on the tree tops looks like a veil made of the finest gauze negligently left behind by one of the Gods above, and suddenly it all takes a profoundly haunting turn...

Yes, I have been bewitched by the hauntingly surreal aspects of the English countryside and its rolling moors bathed in a seemingly infinite fog that rarely ever shifts but for the unexpected streaks of dull sunshine piercing through the cover of glowering clouds frowning their way across the mighty horizon."