Now we are sitting on a Latvian train to Jumala (or something). I bought another Zorki 4 camera just because it has lug bolts (for a strap). I also got this little notebook and pen.
The train bangs loudly on the tracks reminding me of an old wooden roller coaster I once rode. One door swings ajar on its hinges while one sliding compartment door supports itself on the floor.
I point out the window and remark how the nature looks like Africa. The comment is half in jest, but it really does have a wild feel to it. Just like the city.
The trees are overflowing with hanging leaves, the grass is tall and untamed.
The roller coaster begins again as we depart from our first stop. The further we get from the tourist center of the city, the more things seem to be in disrepair. Crumbling brick buildings, reminiscent of castles of old.
I wonder what this town had looked like when all the buildings were new. Or if there ever was a time when everything was new, and when that time might have been. Surely not while Latvia was in the Soviet Union. Or maybe.
The train passes uncountable numbers of empty, vast factories with broken windows and crumbling walls. It’s hard to imagine those places filled with workers and machinery and energy.
