The tracks begin to ring.
I listen closely with the engine roaring louder and louder as each second passes and ready my camera…my finger resting steady on the shutter.
The forest; the leaves; the freight train tearing by and then slowly fading; everything falling quiet again — it all makes me think of Riley. After his passing, my therapy was walking along these tracks, camera in hand. Many times I would never even take a shot, instead preferring to immerse myself in the stillness and color around me.