I finally got a chance to go through the photo’s from the trip back to Seattle. Despite window reflections, dirty windows and being seated down low, I was able to get some keepers. I like the way that shooting from the train window focused my attention to what was going on outside the train. The visual slice of Americana rolling by. The voyeuristic look into the backyards. The contrast of rural and urban. The train slices through like a highway can’t. It carries it’s amenities with it, rather than being pulled along by an endless stream of amenities offered roadside. The railroad view is often raw, the backside of America. The railroad is hinderance at crossings causing traffic to build up. It’s an irritating whistle blown in the middle of the night, every night, while you try to sleep. It’s where you took the dare to put the penny on the rail before the freight went by. The trestle you dared to jump off of when a teen. The blinding light and thunder noise the night you thought you found a great place to camp. It echo’s across the North American dream because it shaped it, stitching together what river and seas had started.