"If you missed the train I took, by then I had already left alone.
Listen to the long and distant whistle, carrying me away, far from home."
On the platform, people come and go, trains stop and depart, groups of people arrive and leave.
Young people with heavy backpacks, they come from towns barely marked on maps, now looking at this magnificent and splendid city, singing songs joyfully yet sadly.
The songs echo, and Lorenzo couldn't help but hum along with the shallow melody, sitting alone on a long bench, like a bystander, quietly witnessing all this.
"What are they singing?"
A woman came over and sat in the spot just vacated by Mrs. Van Rudd.
"Just an ordinary song, probably about people leaving their homes."
Lorenzo said as he picked up a cigarette, puffing smoke and steam mixing together, enveloping him in a white haze.
"Leaving home? Sounds quite sad."
"I find it alright."
"Alright?"
