Play Matt: A Ticket to Ride

A typical dull British morning: grey skies to dampen the soul but not quite cold or wet or windy enough to even be interesting. Yet, coffee in hand, I feel a misplaced sense of exhilaration. Curving away into the thin fog below me are two sets of parallel rails. I know exactly where they go, back to my childhood home. A small seaside town I've been back to countless times. Still, the low whine of an approaching train heralds a small pleasure. A day of movement without effort to enjoy, to think, to write.