Life is a journey and at the end of it, what do we discover if not ourself. The train never really stops. It passes each station. Day passed into night. Night chase the light of day. Without emotion, With no memories. We are the passengers of this train. We longed for the next stop to arrived, to hope that it is our station. But there are many more stations still. Each one would take us to a different destination. From the stations we passed. Each of us fill our memories by the view outside the train window. Each different. Each distinct. We recall some. Yet we forget others.
