“I am seduced by trains. When one moans in the

night like some

dragon gone lame, I rise and put on my

grandfather's suit. I pack a

small bag, step out onto the porch, and wait in
the darkness. I rest

my broad-brimmed hat on my knee. To a
passerby I'm a curious 

sight—a solitary man sitting in the night.
There's something

unsettling about a traveler who doesn't know
where he's headed.

You can't predict his next move. In a week you
may receive a

postcard from Haiti. Madagascar. You might
turn on your

answering machine and hear his voice amid the
tumult of a 

Bangkok avenue. All afternoon you feel the
weight of the things

you've never done. Don't think about it too
much. Everything

starts to sound like a train."

David Shumate, “Trains"