At night our Village is utterly quiet, except for the trains that wind around the town throughout. I sit on my bed in our hilltop house and through the forest of trees, the street lights twinkling like fairy lights through the branches and the waving leaves. Across the valley the yellow lights of a distant highway service station bring to mind the ramparts of a far away castle.
A train starts its climb, the sound of its efforts somehow comforting. All is right with this world.