14 09 07

On deck out with the smokers
The channel is a muted green
with ochre flumes beneath the surface
I feel quite groggy from the rapidly eaten full english and weak coffee

Mist dissolves the white cliffs of Dover
( or is it the cigarette smoke).

To Calais
The last train south of summer

It leaves its suburban siding slowly into the goldening light


Champagne in a six berth couchette
life can’t be all that bad
trattling south
through a Corot greeness


A moment of affirmation - recognition - remembrance