Stations Of The Year: 4

Then the first announcement, soft as breath: Now boarding. All stations to the beginning.

The train shudders back into motion, but the carriage is quieter now. Leaves rattle against the windows like postcards from goodbye. At this stop, you must leave something behind: a scarf, a name, a version of yourself. The air smells of smoke and cider and memory. Those who board here carry empty baskets. They understand: to go forward, you must unload. 4 stations of the year

The platform is soft with mud and petals. A train arrives wrapped in mist and the scent of rain. You step on without a ticket, only a heart cracked open like a seed. The windows steam with green anticipation. This is the station of beginning again, where even your shadows grow leaves. Then the first announcement, soft as breath: Now boarding