Last day. I will take cab to main train station (15 minutes away??) at 8:00 when my train leaves at 10:00.  The journey is the hardest, leaving, preparing to leave; a part of me wants to settle, to sink, to stop.   I didn’t do what others told me to do, what I might have done, should or could have done.

I arrive at the station early, find my way.  My ticket is open and the man at the information both tells me one is leaving from track number 8 (or 9).  I make it, find my way into a compartment.  It is done.

I take pictures of windows and doorways that at that moment resonate: the aging wood frame, the double doors, the peeling plaster over brick, the intricate designs, the crosses the window forms.  To my eye, it looks interesting, unique, worth capturing.  But with a tap of the screen something else appears.  There is always something that I did not see.  The composition is off, or something in the background that gets in the way.  What I saw is gone.