"Do you enjoy watching the clouds, too?" the old lady who travels by herself says. "You know, sometimes I see faces in the sky." The traveller who is seated next to her says, yes. The accidental couple looks out the same window in agreement. The train compartment grows quiet.
I close my eyes just for a second. Meanwhile, a hundred nameless towns pass by and I dream of home. A child cries and wakes me up. It's a genuine cry, pure and full of cincerity. "How old is your boy?" the old lady asks. The young mother answers: "His name is Gregory, he's ten years old".
The old lady looks at Gregory with the eyes of a loving grandmother. Sad, in a way, but with a smile on her face. "I'm looking forward to when I'm dead," she whispers. "Excuse me?" her neighbour says. The old lady is very calm. She turns her face to look out the window again and says: "I don't enjoy being alive anymore".
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