The sunflowers were longer than I. She climbed a few steps. I heard a broken mirror. Men. He was gone. A breath. But we left again. A highway. A military field I could see from the window with no army. The rails with no trains. The train stations were backgammon and coffee with cardamom inside on small tables and men Hubble-bubbling. The railroad covered with second hand stuff. Once upon a time, the train went back home.
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