I see the sun through the fog.
I'm on a train.
I have never been on a train before.
The train's motion feels like I'm swaying on the rocking chair in my room.
I now know why so many stories have a baby being lulled to sleep by the movement of a train.
I see the sun through the fog.
The sun is beautiful.
The is stripped of its shine by the mist, to be transformed into a circle ringed with black.
It looks as if it isn't the sun, but a hole made in the sky with a paper punch.
What if the sun does go round the earth?
I imagine it on a train, carried round, sitting on its own at a table seat.
I imagine the sun being lulled to sleep.
Like a baby on a train in a book.
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