I love watching trains.My room overlooks the railway line.Long blue trains rumble and rattle past,people hanging on to the door.Some coaches are painted with funny ads in bright purple or red,these are usually the green and yellow local trains-on the whole,making a colourful sight.In the night,you can see silver silhouettes of people standing at the footboard.
Engines are smart and funky..and also warm and welcoming.Sometimes they bring along the train,sometimes theyre alone,and free.Driver enjoying his little ingin to himself for a while.
Some introvert trains hurriedly whoosh past,window bars merge with motion lines.Some slow down,let out a long lazy hoot and come to a halt.The loud ones blow their conches,a distant POOOM which gradually grows into a Doppler effect crescendo and fades away.
Goods trains are morose and wooden though.68 wagons trudge along,their souls heavy with coal.They creak,give out exhausted pressure-cooker sighs.They remind me of escaped convicts-turned-philanthropists.The corduroy ones with their closed boxes slink away,like theyre hiding some dark,murky secrets.The water tankers are way better though,they dont look as emancipated,with their well rounded bellies.
And the best way to watch a train,is to watch it till the end,till the picture of the standing man waving his flag disappears round the bend.