Blissful Days and Rusted Rails

The air was warm, though windy at times, the sky was near-cloudless, and a perfect April day emerged. I awoke to it around nine and prepared for a day of walking. I showered, dressed, opened my window and checked on Papina, my quickly growing ivy.

Before long Cerra came online. After talking for a while we decided we would walk downtown together so that she could take some photos, specifically of the bridge. I had time to finish reading the novel I was winding down before we decided to meet a couple blocks from here.

We had a nice walk in the beautiful weather, ignoring a few rogue clouds and deeming the sky cloudless. We saw some interesting sights, and braved half-dangers. Irony struck in the form of a man on a non-motorized bicycle who wore a Harley shirt and a leather jacket. Cerra atempted to conquer a bridge and face her fear of hights, but we ended up retreating a few dozen feet into our crossing. We ate subs and later both had cream egg flurries again. Photos were taken, a cemetery explored, conversations and warm silence filled.

It was a very pleasant afternoon. I believe it to be one of the best days I’ve had in a long time. I very much enjoy spending time with Cerra, and I couldn’t have asked for a nicer day to be traversing the city.

When we reached my street I decided to walk a while longer with her, since I was not in the mood to end my walking. We parted ways at the cemetery near her home and I wandered through the cemetery while listening to music. Soon I was feeling a strong pull to visit the railroad.

I walked, finding a dead end initially, but eventually making my way to the mall near my home. As I made my way through the parking lot, a man approached me and asked if I could spare any change. I sincerely said I was sorry, but I didn’t have anything to share. He took it well and seemed like a nice enough man. He asked if my hair was naturally curly, and suggested people would pay a lot of money to have hair like my own, while I got it for free. He added jovial envy, pointing out my full head of hair and his hat-hidden baldness. As I passed by, I couldn’t help but smile at such a seemingly-nice fellow.

After these delays I finally made it to a bridge that crosses above the railway. I took some photos of the tracks from several vantages, and noticed that a shopping cart had been placed on the track. I decided my final photo would be of that, so I leaned over to take a photo, with music filling my head.

I was about to press the button when a train suddenly swept through the shot, rolling over and crushing the cart. I hadn’t heard its approach over my music, and I found the long string of boxes and empty cars to be a striking surprise. There was something hypnotic about the endless stream of metal, in the way it seemed ever-changing yet patterned. My love affair with the railway is surely not over.

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