The destination of the train ride isn’t a destinaton at all. It is realizing that there is just the voyage.
Everything *is* a train ride on a closed circular track without any real stops, so you choose to live by just watching the passing greenery.
The flower has many rows, always blooming in balance, and as each petal drops at the periphery another arises from the center.
— Gabriel Fenteany, February 15, 2016
