Red Cone (LF)#105- travelling notes

from old notes
July 18 2004

through the chunnel
air pressure on my head and ears oppressive
I take a deep breath
put on lipstick
flick through a magazine Jane bought
talk to myself
I get claustrophobia

Jane returns with egg and salad rolls
she spent most of the time in the chunnel composing a reply to a text looking up to ask
'Is this France?'
the train is moving swiftly
through fields
distant townships and villages
she is reading magazines
I stare at passengers
and the view
'what are you writing ?' she asks
'just stuff' I reply

the fields are now rich and lush green
generally surrounded by tall dark viridian trees
some passengers have shut their eyes to dream
very few looking at the scenery
in fact I cannot see anyone looking at the view

passengers are yawning as if the daylight is to be ignored and the light of the sky is misleading
a three hour trip seems to have included a night time sleep

mounds  of earth with scattered
trees to my left
I am facing the back of the train
strange white balls sit upon the fields
rolled bales of hay and grey pyramids in the distance
now
tree lined roads and tidy fields
under concrete
bridges

the young couple opposite slumber on
he with green bandana tied across his eyes
he wears a Che Guevara t-shirt and a leather thread
holds a cigarette lighter and holder
she is sprawled across him
a barefoot carelessly dangling in the corridor
which passing passengers thoughtfully and carefully try to avoid
the landscape has become more organised
patches of pale straw and rich green
train travel
and what is seen