The Explanation
(for those who require one)

And, of course, that is what all of this is -- all of this: the one song, ever changing, ever reincarnated, that speaks somehow from and to and for that which is ineffable within us and without us, that is both prayer and deliverance, folly and wisdom, that inspires us to dance or smile or simply to go on, senselessly, incomprehensibly, beatifically, in the face of mortality and the truth that our lives are more ill-writ, ill-rhymed and fleeting than any song, except perhaps those songs -- that song, endlesly reincarnated -- born of that truth, be it the moon and June of that truth, or the wordless blue moan, or the rotgut or the elegant poetry of it. That nameless black-hulled ship of Ulysses, that long black train, that Terraplane, that mystery train, that Rocket '88', that Buick 6 -- same journey, same miracle, same end and endlessness."
-- Nick Tosches, Where Dead Voices Gather

From the Southern Travellers Handbook for 1965/66 #9


Commuting in reverse: None of the daily pushing and shoving here, the frantic search for a vacant seat, the uncomfortable journey. They can pick and choose where to sit, stretch out their legs and travel in style. And there is an abundance of seats on these 'wrong-way' trains for others to do just the same. The trick is, of course, to organise your work - or have it organised for you - so that it takes place outside of Central London.

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