Each day I sit on the train, coloring in the letters.  Each day I leave the train at the same place.  The train goes on without me and does what the train does. Then it turns round and goes back again.  I don't think I'm any more responsible for this than any other passenger.  The next morning it appears again as usual, looking just the same.  And yes, my train really is red white and blue.

i felt like i was playing with those toy soldiers making this, very odd.  like a serious child at play making a poster.  it was something i could do to distract myself from the war news, and to get into it at the same time.  made the day of the first bombing spree.  it's just the top line of the finale split in 2. moderately in the style of a funeral march is at the beginning, i suppose the instruction on how this is to be played (out).  there's not words for this piece, but i imagined...

In the evenings though, after I've clicked the box shut, trapping the words inside, I try to forget about the train and whatever it's up to.  Something keeps crayoning the undersides of the clouds a dusky mixture of red, white and blue.  This reminds me of the train. This reminds me of you.