On the train I rest my head against the glass, looking out at fields of tall winter grains. They wear November’s kiss of snow like small white hats, all of them standing together to wave goodbye.

My digits spread along the pane, filling the spider-web cracks that reach up to the sky. Lazily we cross the quilt of so many farms, my form curled and leaning in the snug carriage seat. The shuttle rocks gently as it saunters down the track, with dappled dreams flitting across my eyes, a light giggle, and so many white caps waving in the breeze.

“It is going to be strange living there, I think, but I think it is also very exciting. There is going to be lots of new things there, like music and dancing. I am very excited to see the new music and dancing.

When I visit last time there was a girl drawing on the concrete. She had a sign that said ‘Hello, I am Cho the Chalk Chick’, and she drew this big picture on the ground and the people had to walk around her, but they would put coins into this little hat.

They had this big train there, and people would play their music on the drums and guitars. It was very loud but also it was exciting, the big train and the big noises.”

I can see it with my hand, the big noises and the drums. Each finger stretched laps at the glass, excited for today.