Travelling

Spent the day in trains, going south and east in the morning and back north and west in the afternoon. Five hours in a quiet compartment, space on the move. Comfortable chair, the country slipping by outside. Gray light, clouds, some rain. Very little detail. Fields, buildings, sky and roads all seem to blend. Flat country. Flat progress. Moving through a part of the world that has little to show, not much to be seen, and therefore my travelling is just that: travelling. Nothing else. The less I see, the more I simply travel. Reduced to the act of going and returning. Sometimes it is that simple.