The rhythmic passing of tracks creates a strange silence over the sleeping train. The train before this one, swollen as the grey-toned sea, vibrates in the deafening sound of a thousand whispers, but this train, with its one or two passengers, slips away unnoticed. Or perhaps it is my mind that slips away in the dim lighting of this weary car, as I watch the stops come and go; have I missed my own? But I have no destination, or I do but I do not want one, for life is not as preordained as it may seem, much as this train ride can go on forever; a stop is nothing more than a choice after all. But see how my mind has drifted? Another ten stops must have come and gone. Looking out the window, I see memories flash by as instants do, and a shower of stars flickers past my eyes as I try to blink them away. Shafts of light stream through the glass like sunlight, and for a moment I am fooled, but ultimately the light from bright white bulbs is not the same as that from the golden rays that seem at once both familiar and distant. Too much time has passed. A part of me calls to remind me of my duties as a daughter, as a student; the soft glow behind an apartment door awaits me, and within so do papers upon my desk so numerous they could truly be leaves. Once again the train halts and a muffled announcement tells me I have not missed my stop after all, but then again, how could I?