A train window is two pictures at once. Outside, fields slide by in long flat bands. On the glass, the carriage behind me floats over them, fainter but never gone.
I spent most of this stretch trying to look at only one of the two. It cannot be done for long. The reflection comes back the moment the fields outside turn dark green.
The window keeps a copy of the room you are sitting in.
Notes for the road
- The orange marker came past again, or one just like it.
- Reflections are strongest when the land outside is darkest.
- Wrote this page without looking down, and it shows.