Ionian Seaby Maria Cinanni
I awake to the clacking of the train's wheels, pulling me towards a motionless sky— the new day haunts, consumes me; its colours flash across the window, a slideshow of impressionist sketches. There is a family of immigrants chatting about how everything's changed, how leaving and arriving are tied tightly in a trunk of ancestral memories. They offer me some coffee. We drink, say a few words, get our cases ready. The next stop is ours. © 2008 by Maria Cinanni. All rights reserved.