Atelier

Our train is delayed, we were set to leave Geneva at 9 AM, ten minutes have passed since the last announcement from the train manager.  Everyone is fiddling with their phones, a few read newspapers purchased in the station but they’re in the minority. Most are quiet , expressionless, as if they were trying to gather scattered thoughts. My iPad is open to a blank text document … I’m not in the mood. Nothing is coming out: what I imagined I would write no longer seems cleaver or interesting … I stare out the window, a blank mind on a cloudy day,  Below, a man crosses the road carrying something on his back … an accordion. He is approaching a corner store, The Atelier Artique, a run-down art supplier. I wonder where art begins? Where is he off-to. No doubt he’ll entertain, it’s natural, the need comes from within. I feel a warm glow … the train slowly moves down the track … Destination Paris.