Its 9.25 in the morning. riding on a train up to glasgow. i'm tired but how can sleep and forfeit this opportunity to witness the view from my window?

the fields, marked out with short fencing and hedges are carpeted by snow, titanium white, the sky, void of clouds gradient downwards, the cornflower blue diluting into a translucent cream at the horizon. the sporadic vegetation, now lit up golden by the sun that has just started its 8 hour winter shift, casting long blue shadows onto the white canvas.

by deliberate choice, my mechanical eye is not with me. but just like how the other senses are heightened by the lost of one, perhaps this grants one a new kind of freedom to see, to capture in my mind every singular thing be it a cloud of slow rising steam, a tree stripped bare, or a piece of construction equipment in 3d.

how can a captured image projected from a computer screen or assigned onto a sheet of photo paper recreate this particular time? [I can't say moment because this has been going on for quite a while] how can i tell you of my fatigue, of how cramped up i am in my seat, and the anticipated swelling of feet and ankles in a few hours time? how can i then tell you via a mechanical documentation that all these small issues are insufficient to damper my fascination at the world, at the knowledge of the multitude of blessings permitted unto me, on this day, in this week, in this year...