The trains exits the tunnel and rides the bridge crossing the Don Valley. Out in the distance, like a painting I see rows of trees, layered behind each other slowly fading away, thick from the morning rain. It feels like autumn.
The trains exits the tunnel and rides the bridge crossing the Don Valley. Out in the distance, like a painting I see rows of trees, layered behind each other slowly fading away, thick from the morning rain. It feels like autumn.