Twenty-five years have been spent traveling on this train as it races across time, making pit stops here and there to pick up or drop off acquaintances. Every now and then I would gaze out the window and admire the beauty in passing, sometimes also stepping off to interact and see the sights, but often distracted with my nose in a book or a head filled with dreams behind fluttering eyes. The train has been running for far longer than I have been a passenger myself, it has coasted across continents and civilizations, in and out of consciousness, keeping the same steady pace that becomes almost second nature and causes us to not only lose track of the time spent coasting along, but often to fail to take full advantage of the ride.
I have been a passive listener for much too long, moving and swaying with each twist and turn of the track. I watch friends come and go sitting across from me, beside me, four seats away, or switching cars. Sometimes I make the effort to talk, to socialize, to make the best of the short time before they have reached their stop... but often they receive a quick glance or friendly hello as I remain disconnected and antisocal behind my book or pen and pad. My camera captures much, but the eyes capture more. Eventually the film will run out and you will be left with what faded memory you can muster up.
Stepping to the right, I present to you this journal of my awakening.
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