I went on a real long-distance train only once – last year we went to the rest of the family to rest in Sochi.
We took the whole compartment: I and my sister Vera settled on the upper shelves, and Mom and Dad – on the lower shelves. It was hot, so the windows were open all the time. I looked out the window all the way, and it did not bother me at all.
A strange life flashed by and flashed by someone else’s life, very interesting, bright, and sometimes mysterious. I looked, lying on a shelf, on yellowing fields and green meadows, on blue streams and lakes with lonely fishermen and reeds, on a blue sky with white sheep of clouds that seemed to float behind the train after the trail, keeping up and not overtaking him. I watched, holding my breath, for someone else’s life, for a second opening in fleeting pictures, as if in film shots: the girl came out with a basin and began to take off the clothes from the ropes stretched next to the porch of the wooden house. Do not have time to think about who she is, what she thinks and dreams about, how a new picture opens: at the railway crossing there is a truck with a brand new tractor in the back, and the driver is saying something to the old railwayman, waving his hands, and it’s not clear: they swear or laughing.
It is interesting to watch the variety of life from the train window!