Down the line

This is a collection about time: an event as a rock thrown to a lake, memories as circles in the water that grow and slowly fade away.
Time as a country breeze that enters the window unnoticed, and softly turns the page.
A house made of time, echoes in each room talk to each other, in silence.
The past never goes away, the future never comes, the present, a fading frontier, always unconquered.
“I wish I was a train moving down the line. Just keeping track of time.”

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