You see the train fires our thoughts. We find a train’s white metallic sky up there, as though the train itself were the earth spinning like a top in cosmic space. The train’s hoot pierces our awareness.
We then come down from the upper berth to mundane matters of trivial concern- thoughts which are not train thoughts but home kitchen and patio thoughts waiting for inquisitive neighbors to talk ,so that we could pick large comic holes.
In the train, between our finiteness and sky, there is another white sky, train sky under which several celestial thoughts take place in our upturned sleeping faces. It is as though the metal sky does not exist and we are faced with the Big sky itself.