When you’re out there walking, the weather is always important. Is it going to rain? How cold is it going to be? Or how warm? Are you going to have to put on your windbreaker or nah?
Being at home meant that the weather didn’t matter much at all. When I went outside, I would basically just take a short walk to the next station, then hop on a train to the city. The inside of the train was always nice and warm.
Today, as I was looking outside, I found myself wondering about the Caboose:
Was she alright? I would have to talk to the gentleman who was keeping her for me.
When I got to the city, it was already dark:
I went back to my orthopaedist, and we talked about some things.
Then I hopped back on another train and went home, and I prepared a foot bath:
With my feet soaking in the water, I closed my eyes, and I tried to imagine myself being somewhere on the road. Maybe I could go back to a certain moment in time? Maybe to that one night in the East of Iran when I was taking a foot bath outside of that one roadside mosque? I remembered talking to some truck drivers and also buying a lock from somebody, and it all seemed so clear. That night had been many months ago, but I seemed to remember it as if it had been just yesterday.