So, here you are, whomever you may be, a single person out of billions reading this blog, reading this blog out of millions of other blogs that are much more decently put together, much more organized, much more thought provoking, much more in touch with the culture around you, much more… a lot of things, so for whatever reason you are here today I must admit something to you that I’m not sure you’ve realized yet, it’s that when you read these words from this very blog you are actually not only reading my words but you are riding a train with a worried old wanderer who makes stops along his way to whatever end in small towns not often visited. These stops represent my wonderings, my trains of thought that are well escaped from the big cities. This way of life, (traveling the railways to the ends of the universe) takes its toll on the body. Sometimes I think I would trade all of these writings, all of my crazy ideas, all of these pages and pages of pure written thought that I’ve accumulated over the past few years, all of my experiences, all of my passions and vivid desires for simply a good night sleep. For maybe just a week of good night sleeps. I think other times that my trains only carry empty cargo not worth opening or exploring, then I think there must be a gem hidden in one of these crates that I’ve written about somewhere. But if it shall be empty or full of treasure I shall nary cease to be thankful regardless, thankful for what? Thankful for my weary night sleeps when I was able to come up with all of these ideas in the first place. So, I thank you, whoever you may be for occasionally accompanying me on my weary journeys to these odd places. Thank you for helping these places that I’ve written of become more of a reality because I assure you, these places exist and I visit them every time I write, and whatever it is that I write shall be because I have written it, if I’ve written it that means it has come from somewhere so it must have always existed, and when it is read, then it forever becomes a part of the reader and will never cease to be, so that makes my thoughts, whatever they be real and never ending, they will go on long after my physical train chugs to a dead stop and puffs out its last bit of exhaust, they will always continue somewhere, somehow till the ends of forever. So, here you are, whomever you may be, a single person out of billions reading this blog, reading this blog out of hundreds of thousands of other blogs that are much more decently gathered, much more prepared, much more thought provoking, much more in touch with the society around you, much more… a lot of other things, so for whatever reason you are here today I must admit something to you that I’m not sure you’ve realized yet, it’s that when you read these words from this very blog you aren’t only reading my words but you are hopping a train with a worried old wonderer who makes short visits along his way to whatever end in little towns not often visited. These stops symbolize my wanderings, my trains of thought that are well traveled outside of the big cities. This way of life, (traveling the railways to the ends of the cosmos) takes its toll on me. Sometimes I think I would give all of these writings, all of my crazy ideas, all of these pages and pages of pure written thought that I’ve accumulated over the past few years, all of my experiences, all of my passions and vivid desires for simply a good night sleep, for maybe just a few weeks of good night’s sleep. I think other times that my trains only carry empty cargo not worth opening or exploring and then I think there must be a gem hidden in one of these crates that I’ve written about somewhere. But if it shall be empty or full of treasure I shall nary cease to be thankful regardless, thankful for what? Thankful for the nights that I was able to sleep well and still be able to create something I consider beautiful, beautiful to whom? Beautiful to me and to those who know me a little bit. So, I thank you, whoever you may be for occasionally accompanying me on my weary journey to these odd places of interest. Thank you for helping these places that I’ve written of become more of a reality because I assure you, these places really do exist and I visit them every time I write, and whatever it is that I write shall be because I have written it, and if I’ve written it that means it has come from somewhere so it must have always existed, and when it is read, then it forever becomes a part of the reader and will never cease to be, so that makes my thoughts, whatever they be real and never ending. They will go on long after my physical train chugs to a dead stop and puffs out its last bit of exhaust. They will continue in one form or another. Some details may change and words may differ but the memory of it will always exist within someone’s mind, and even if all those minds turn to dust the feel of bumps and the noise of those funny towns will echo within the consciousness’s of those spirits who’ve learned them, those souls who’ve loved me and comforted me and entertained me and been entertained by me as they’ve ridden down these railways of thought with me. They will never forget and I do say that I will not ever forget either. I don’t know what shall become of these exact words but one day I’ll find myself reflecting upon a strange little town that I once visited and let’s see, what was it called? Something like… I can’t quite remember but it was beautiful and incredibly thought provoking to say the least because I remember that it was wonderful and that’s all I need to know. that is all we need to remember, that this place was wonderful and beautiful beyond mere words.
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