In the beginning, there were train tracks. In the greenery, between heaven and earth. With stations, like beads on a string, placed tightly so that even before the train managed to accelerate, it had to slow down before the following stop. Platforms made of concrete, narrow and shaky, equipped with ladders and steep steps, grew straight out of sand, as though built on dunes. The stations’ pavilions bore resemblance to old-fashioned kiosks: elongated, bent awnings, azure letters on both ends, which appeared to float on air.I’ve always enjoyed peering at them, beginning with the first station outside the strict limits of the city, when the closely knit urban architecture quickly disperses and the world expands to an uncanny size.