The Ramblings of Mira Sophia

A collection of my poems, short stories, and aspiring books... www.bumblingtravels.tumblr.com

[mirasophia]

Book update!!

Cheeky little chapter update of my book for anyone into queer pirates, dark magic, and feminist mermaids!

What If? Ch.17 

Read it from the beginning!!

[mirasophia]

secret fights

Creeping closer

Deadly sights

Cracked foundations

Hallowed frights.

Weeping crystals

Falling lights

Diamonds shimmer

In the morning light.

Across the land

Of darkened delight

Secrets hide

A hidden fight.

-MiraSophia x

[mirasophia]

stars and storms

Starry nights,

And stormy days.

All your dreams,

They wash away.

Follow along,

This beaten path.

Brambles crawling,

Safe at last.

The forest behind us,

Stone path ahead.

Gather your courage,

Forwards, we lightly tread.

-MiraSophia x

[mirasophia]

twilight dreams

Something changes,

When day turns to night.

Silence settles,

Wishes filled with light.

The type of peace,

Found in a fairytale.

Dreams of bliss,

Heartbeats never fail.

As twilight falls,

Skies a midnight blue.

Lies fall away,

Leaving only that which is true.

As we watch the changing,

Of blazing sun to silver moon.

Gather strength and courage,

Break free from your tomb.

- MiraSophia x

[mirasophia]

broken delight

Crashing waves,

And broken dreams,

Whiskey shots,

Rain’s never what it seems.

Along the path,

Of tilted delight,

A heart cast down,

Blackened with spite.

Lost alone,

No path to follow,

Teardrops splatter,

The cry of the lonely Swallow.

-MiraSophia x

[mirasophia]

this is the way the world ends

This is the way the world ends. A thunderclap faded into blue. The light dies down, fluttering gasps, until darkness reigns true.

Wondering through this barren world, I am the last to remain. All other souls have fluttered away, all dreams withered into decay. Sailing above an empty land, the truth begins to settle. This world is gone, hope snuffed, lullabies reach their end.

This is the way the world ends.

A whispering herald of empty darkness.

A clinging onto dusk.  

I knew it was coming, we all knew the end was near. But pushing through each day and night, we humans struggled on. We cocooned ourselves in hope, crowned ourself in faith. We believed we would survive the night, we dreamed with all our might.

The world didn’t end in fire and brimstone. No resounding echo of ending. This was nothing to mark the end. Just a whimpering transition into nothing.

I remember seeing the word go dark. A distant memory of stilted gasps.

I was there at the end, the destruction of this life, this world, this home. Unable to do anything but watch, life faded from this place.

This is the way the world ends. Flickering lights, and whispering shadows. Dreams begone, hope forgot.

And in the shadowed corner of my eye I saw it; the way of the worlds end.

-MiraSophia x

[mirasophia]

blade’s edge

It sat in its dampened, velvet lined case. The shine of metal glinting like stars in the blackest night. The roughen edges spoke of choices, those made and those lost. A handle wrapped in beaten leather, the sunken fingerprints of those before.

It spoke of pain,

Of death

Of endings

It marked my last choice.

Reaching forwards I brushed my fingertips upon it. The faintest caress. New lover’s kiss. The leather felt warm in my calloused hands. A burning fire reminding of its truth. Slashing at the air it whistled a haunting tune, silver shining the glint of a villain’s smile.

Content in the truths of that moment, I hooked it to my belt.

A companion made of this swinging arch of death.

Moving through the metal carcass, of this long abandoned place. I took solace in the strength, the protection that now swung by my hip.

I fought for too long. To be done with this life, this never ending waking moment of everlasting pain. I scrambled away from a precipice of future, any hint of trappings in this darkest place.

But now,

Now I knew what I was, I knew that which was true. I stood fast, outside those doors, an entrance to a chosen path one surely drenched in the calls of bleeding sorrow. The turmoil of my inner mind could see no other choice. This path I stood before was all I knew how to do.

I knew now that all past hopes of escape were nothing more than dreams of futility. Brushing calloused fingers past the worn leather at my side, I allowed the truth of my deadly companion settle deep within me.

The countless lives this blade had touched, breathes caught, eyes fastened shut.

Each tiny knick and tainted scratch promised a story more encompassing and hopeless than my own. Endings come to us all, every path drops off eventually, it’s just a matter a time. After all, that’s all life is, a dance of time and choices, an inevitable jaunt to death.

So here I stood, a sliver arch strapped to my side. It winked in the moonlight, a fool’s lantern to the end. I released it from its cage, gripping the hilt in a white knuckled grasp. In a deadly arch I brought it up, to rest besides my face.

In the shadowed moonlight, of a night escaping dusk, I saw myself reflected there. It was a masquerade even to me, a choice made long before. I saw my bowed mouth twitch, a scrunched form of a trapped smile; an echo of the blade itself. Above it set two pools of death. Promises of truthful ends.

And below them,

Reflected in deadly form, a slicing path made down my face

A weaving trail of crimson tears.

-MiraSophia x

[mirasophia]

what is evil?

What is evil? But an unquenchable thirst for what you deem to be right. A view of the world through shattered glass, no less damaged than our own.

What is evil?

But the undeniable call for truth. A need for order, regiment as you see it.

Evil is all around, yet hidden away from sight. But we cannot call it so.

What is evil about protecting your own.

Ensuring that if it comes down to it, you will survive alone.

How can we praise kings and conquerers, when evil does the same only to be banished from sight.

Are we not all, deep inside, perhaps a fraction evil.

We travel this world, this endless doom. Repeating life step by step, no end in sight.

If we travel further, live the truth perhaps, one day, we’ll be right.

When the world ends, and end it will in crashing waves and burning spite. Those who remain are those few who always had a fractured view.

At the end of days, evil remains a constant before all things,

For in the end,

What is evil?

But the protection and survival of life.

-MiraSophia x

[mirasophia]

ocean heart

Broken dreams

And beating  hearts.

Fluttering hopes

Oceans part.

Lost among the endless grey,

Speckled lights come out to play.

Although the quiet rests deep.

Wander forward

Tired feet.

Lost alone.

Found once more.

Whispering winds,

Beating hearts,

Never part.

- MiraSophia x

[mirasophia]

the jagged lake

There was a lake down the lane from where I grew up. A crater jagged through the forest floor. A silver surface, mirroring the stars; nothing but scattered ripples to obscure their visage. I used to travel down there, when I was a young girl. When life was still exciting, and hope ruled my waking thoughts.

Each summer day, I would bring with me, a basket filled with fruit; dainty little sandwiches, fluffy cakes and treats. Finding my favoured patch of grass, swaying blades of green, I would fall down to the bed in a billow of pastel skirts. My eyes squeezed shut, laughter tumbling from my lips. I would sit there in peace and bliss. Nothing but the birds songs and shiny fish to keep me company. As the sun finished her days journey, as she travelled below the trees. I would wait a few more precious moments, a breath caught in my throat.

There!

There!

Just passed the willow tree.

Each dusk they came out to play, dancing playful lights. Oranges. Blues. Greens. They all came out to play, joyful jigs they danced across the lake’s reflections still. I dare not move, not a hairs-breadth not wishing to scare them off. In silence I waited. I hoped. One by one they made their way across the silver surface. Towards my frozen form they twirled in ever-wonder. Reaching out a tentative hand I wished to be nearer. As if hearing my muted hopes, they danced that much dearer.

One by one those twinkling lights made their way to me. A bright yellow light settled on my outstretched finger, a dainty kissing tickle. A blue and purple fluttered about, above my head; chattering whispers in the breeze. A green one landed on my shoulder, tangled in wild blonde hair.

Still, silent I remained.

When the moon had risen higher, now directly atop the lake. Slowly I brought myself from reverie, I could not stay too late. As if sensing my leaving, the lights danced most fiercely; tugging greens, erratic oranges, blue and purples swirled in distressed. I yearned to whisper apologies, sorry’s spilling from my mouth. But words had no effect here. This was not the place for them. Instead I cast my mind instead and felt the fire of delight. Pushing out my sorry’s through muted thoughts and feelings, was a better way of talking, to these dancing lights.

A mind swaddled in thank yous and delights, I unbundled my basket. Strawberry flowers and sweet lemon cakes, safely nestled inside. I lay out my offerings, piece-by-piece, on the grey stone, smoothed by the lakes waves. Slowly more lights came, following my chosen friends. They gathered atop the offerings, a cacophony of lights.

Slowly while they were distracted, I eased myself away. Not wishing to spoil the magic, of such a blissful day. As I left that lake, the orange one seemed to watch me go. A searing gaze that followed me as I went on my way.

On the first day of winter. I went back to that lake. The one that was like a jagged crater, cut right through the rock. I sat on the cold ground, the basket of gifts by my feet. The forest was darkening rapidly, the sun did not have long. I waited for her to rest, for her sister to come instead.

Slowly the sun descended. Sharp light through the bare trees. The forest was nothing but darkness then, in that time just before night.

I waited ever-carefully, fingers twisted in hope. My gaze sweeping the forest seeking a mirage of light. Slowly the moon rose, but now she was cold. A grey land lit underneath a broken reflection in the lake.

I waited.

Waited.

I waited.

But nothing was there. Just barren trees and lonely moons, and me. As the moon reached its peak, above the jagged lake. Still no lights had come to greet me in joyful delight. I do not know how long I waited, hope dwindling inside. But the moon was through the trees, before I forced myself to leave for the night.

As I left that lonely lake. I tried not to cry. The loss of lights and magic, consuming my sight. I’d left my basket behind me, spiced apple cakes buried inside. I walked ever forward, never looking back. I left that forest for the last time, my lights had finally left me. I was alone this time, magic forsaken.

When I had returned up the lane, when I was crying in my bed; deep in that forest there was movement by the lake. An upturned basket lay discarded by cold greying rock. Across the pond, behind an ageing willow tree, a small light flickered orange, hidden from sight.

Seeking the spiced apple cakes, she settled by the gifts. A joyful heart, innocent delight.

The forest was cold that night, and would be until the end. Fraying willow trees, and cold rocks would be all that was left.

But deep in the heart of the forest, besides a jagged lake. Slowly one by one, lights started to awake.

-MiraSophia x

[mirasophia]

dreamer of moons

What is the moon? But a constant there. Something to wish upon each passing night. I often wondered who she was, the stories she had, buried deep beneath.

The world keeps spinning, history repeating. Silent souls come and go, yet she remains there.

In the blackest of nights, with the path so untoward, she guides us home. Her beaming light.

When I was, but a little girl, I used to talk to her each night. I’d tell her my stories, all my hopes and dreams. She became a journal. A chronicle of me.

Secrets kept, secrets shared, they all come to be under her care. When the days shortened, and darkness came calling, she was there for us.

Little me would sit, perched on the window ledge, button nose smashed against the glass. She would stare into the night, above rooftops and chimney-pots, seeking her bright light. Ten tiny fingers gripping the glass, I would lean my small body out.

Wishing.

Hoping.

To get close.

Each night I would cling there, until my red-sore knees gave out, shooting wishes and hopes sky high.

I used to believe, that a wish only came true; if she did allow it so. But now I know, life has taught me well, that I am the wish-bringer the hope-saver.

Where once I stared, deep into her silver light, my little dreams strung up high. Now I know, that she will never go, not while I need her there.

I still make wishes, each black night. Although now I don’t quite fit on that chipping window ledge. Instead I store them up, my dreams throughout the day. A pool of hopes simmering within me.

Each night I find a way, to see her true form - a rooftop, an open field, a clear window pane. And I do as I did, when I still fit on that ledge, I fling my dreams way up high. Wishes and hopes, all the best of me, thrown to the sky hoping she’ll find them true.

Her silver frame, never stays too long. But while it’s there, oh when it’s there! Life is bright, even in the darkness of night. My hopes and dreams don’t seem quite like wishful futility.

Instead I know, dreams are me, and I, am a dreamer of moons.

- MiraSophia x

[mirasophia]

world’s end

No one knows quite how the world will end. Or at least no one wants to admit how. The flashing lights, the fiery sky, an almost tranquil silence blanketing us all. Alone we walk a path, one foot then another. Together we walk the same lonely path, to the end of life as we know it.

I was only a little girl, when I first knew the world would end. Lost in life and lost in hope, a desperate scramble to the end.

The moon was full that night, I remember that at least. A full beaming light guiding a path, futile though it may seem.

When I learned of the worlds impending end, my mother held me tight. Safe in the arms of the one I trust, a love constant from beginning to end. My mother wrapped her arms around me, an unbreakable cocoon of home. As the silence of the night descended she leaned in and held me tight.

“Be not afraid my sweet,” my mother said to me, “don’t be afraid of the end, do not fear the night.”

By the time the morning rays, shone through the dirt-stained window pane, mother had drifted from this world. I settled a quite moment, carving the feel of still-warm arms around me deep into my memory vaults. I breathed once. Twice. Thrice; before slowing crawling away.

My mother covered, patchwork coloured quilts thrown over her, I left the first victim of the end.

That night I left my family home, I left my mother’s end. I walked into the dwindling day, the silence of the town. The world’s end was coming quickly, I hastened on my way.

My mother’s words never left me, I never was afraid. Instead I walked ever-forwards, towards whatever there was that remained.

Through those last few years, that the planet clung to life, I felt the end approaching, quicker every night. Dust settling all around, a smokescreen obscuring life. The echoes of empty houses, heralded an inescapable end.

I do not know where I went, or what it was I did. I found some quite lonely souls, alone like I was too. Together our banded family, fought through the emptiness. Memories never left us, yet the futures dwindled still.

When I found that young girl. I knew my end was coming to. The world’s cycles were almost complete. But perhaps one last remained.

When the fires around my vision, slowly closed my sight almost shut, I knew the end was coming. I could’ve not forgot.

So I held that young girl close. Tear tracks stained muted pink cheeks. The warpaint of a world, that was slowly ending for us all. My arms created a steel-cage, a bolted lock on a last home. The fire pit was flickering, my closing-vision stealing the flames.

For me the world was ending, the message now this girls to bear. Alone we walked the earth, couriers of the end.

As my mother did to me, I held that girl tight. I whispered tales of before, before we knew of the end. My time was slowly fading. The world had finally come for me too. I told the girl “do not be afraid, do not fear the night.”

As the prayer left my cracked-lips, my courage left too. This girl was all that was left of me, the last before the end.

I closed my eyes on today, knowing tomorrow would never come. The world was coming to an end, and it was taking me too. My time had passed, my task done, someone else would rise now. For me an ashy world of fire, was all that was left.

When the world ended, I was not afraid. The fires all around me did not take from the night. Someone could carry the message, the world was not alone. Perhaps another cycle, the world could manage one more.

As for me this was the end, the darkest night. And as the end claimed me, I was not afraid. I did not fear the night. My mother had warned me right.

- MiraSophia x

[mirasophia]

howling

Howling through the night,

We precious few arise.

Waking from our slumber,

Hearts beat with passing tides.

Alone we fall down swiftly,

Together we rise.

Pack we are becoming,

Conjoined whispers of the night.

- MiraSophia x

[bumblingtravels]

15. Budapest

There and Back Again… an Interrailing Story

8 cities, 6 countries, 4 weeks, 2 rainbows, 1 camera

PART ONE — Budapest

June 12th, 2018

Our next day in Budapest saw the sun at full blast and these two British girls sweating buckets. It was a late start and the early rise tomorrow warranted an early night so we forwent the customary picnic and headed out into the world.

Treating ourselves to the scenic route we headed down to the river and walked along it on our way to the bridge. This bridge spans across the river and connects Buda to Pest and it was the former that was our destination as we headed towards Buda Castle.

The bride drops you off directly at the foothills of Buda Castle and Budapest’s famous cable car. Despite someone trying to poach us to get the bus up instead - and I use the word ‘bus’ very loosely, let’s be honest this is nothing else but a stretched out golf cart - we treated ourselves to the cable car and a glorious 3 minutes and 47 seconds. The cable car is a great little thing and we managed to nab the first compartment so we could see the whole view of the river and old fashioned track as we ascended upwards.

The tip top of the cable track drops you off at a viewpoint with truly breathtaking views. We forgave the scorching weather for a brief moment as we enjoyed the blue skies and sunshine over a view that was distinctly European.

Now, Buda Castle ain’t much of a castle. I would hesitate to call it a castle and instead maybe go for art gallery or just a really good bit of wall. Nevertheless, after treating ourselves to some ice cream, we walked along the outskirts of this apparent caste.

Despite the misleading name a further treat-yo-self to a crushed ice slushy spurred us on through the heat and we walked these really good walls, all the while admiring the breathtaking views sprawl out in front of us.

Realising that time had got away from us and we had an early start tomorrow, we headed back towards the cable tracks. After a brief meal at the castle restaurant - where we ordered the whole dessert menu (one chocolate cake and one strawberry cheesecake please) - we continued onto the cable car, and yet another breathtaking ride.

We ended our lovely Budapest adventure with a walk throughout the cite centre which ended at a souvenir shop selling everything from post cards, to honey, to toy guns. We collected our wares and after briefly speaking to the cashier about the economy and immigration, we headed off one to pack and get ready for the next travel day.

- MiraSophia

[bumblingtravels]

14. Budapest

There and Back Again… an Interrailing Story

8 cities, 6 countries, 4 weeks, 2 rainbows, 1 camera

PART ONE — Budapest

June 11th, 2018

Despite the nap the day before we treated ourselves to a mini lie-in - what? we’re students. Opting for a relaxing park day I made us some breakfast - I slaved all day over those cocoa pops - while Meg made us a picnic lunch and we got ready for the day.

The first stop on our Budapest adventure was of course the well-known pharmacy - Bobert needed some TLC. We followed that big, glowing green cross like some sort of heavenly sign and hunted down some Bobert remedies.

Bobert tended too, we headed to a park behind the apartment block that looked good on google maps. Kids listen up, sometimes… the internet lies!!! The park that looked oh so lovely on the inter webs ended up being not so lovely in the real world. Too many paths stopped proper grass age and a lack of people using it as an actual park had us seriously questioning the legality of park lying in Budapest - what? Hungarians might just have something against grass, stranger things have happened.

We managed some sitting for all of 30 seconds before deciding we ain’t about this life. Deciding to tentatively put our trust back in google, we headed off in the direction of Margaret’s Island, a decision that ended up being on of our best (spoiler alert).

Just up the street, past 3 restaurants, 1 banks, 2 McDonalds and 1 mini golf course lays Margaret’s Bridge that aptly connects Buda to Pest and veer off to Margaret’s Island.

Now, for those of you who haven’t been to Margaret’s Island, just imagine Disneyland on speed and made of grass. Walking into the massive island, you’re greeted by a bus stop and a map of the island because the park is just that big.

First stop was of course the toilet, I’m not pointing fingers but the bladder has a Bobert. But, before we could even get there you find yourself at a big-ass roundabout which is surrounded by people selling pedal carts of various jazziness, because this is an island made for wizzing around.

Bladders emptied, we set up camp in a cute patch of grass nestled in some bushes, under a tree and opposite a big ole fountain. Now, remember how I called this place Disneyland on speed, well apparently, in Budapest the fountains sing. On the hour, every hour, for 15 minutes the fountains become a musical water show set to music from everything from Rolling Stones to Moana soundtrack to Dua Lipa. Budapest Disney be wild.

Time flew by as we lay on the grass and had our picnic. The musical show and general park and fountain-ness proved to be a wonderful backdrop to writing and reading. I can honestly say I have never had a more relaxing or enjoyable time - you can’t go wrong with a good park, especially one complete with a musical fountain.

The magical adventure continued as we said adieu to our picnic spot and continued our trek through Margaret’s Island. Just behind a bank of flower beds and a line of sunbeams is a big ole ‘Budapest’ sign - just in case anyone forgets where they are. Like the proper travelling tourists we are, we took a photoshoot worth of pictures in front of the sign so everyone knows exactly where we went on our travels.

The rest of the day was a wide assortment of various things that Margaret’s Island has to offer - I still don’t know who Margaret is, but I would like to thank her for her great taste in Islands. Passing by a BnB and a zoo, because what park is complete without a zoo enclosure just for chickens - we continued the trick to the other side.

Margaret’s Island ends as most parks do; at a massive hotel overlooking a great water tower. With thoughts of ‘ah what an Island’ we headed back down via the other side. Stopping for ice cream and a quick piss in a bush - DofE trekking expeditions have prepared me well - we walked past a big pool and some old ruined - again, this is an island and a half - before once again finding ourselves at the magical musical fountain.

Seeing that the fountain was lit up all colourful we sat and waited for the next musical number. It was a wonderful experience and a very fitting end to such a lovely day.

— MiraSophia

[bumblingtravels]

13. Venice -> Budapest

There and Back Again… an Interrailing Story

8 cities, 6 countries, 4 weeks, 2 rainbows, 1 camera

PART ONE — Venice —> Budapest

June 10th, 2018

After very up and down night, we arrived at our layover stop in Vienna. Hopping over to the next platform we awaited the next train to Budapest. On the train we immediately felt at home as we seemed to have found ourselves in a carriage solely for inter-railers. Feeling reassured that we were at least on the right train, we settled in for a seemless journey to Budapest - alas not as comfy as the Italian trains, now they really know how to rail.

After buying a ridiculously cheap metro ticket - seriously Budapest is the place to be if you’re broke - we easily navigated our way to the apartment - we’re honestly getting so good at this navigating public transport thing, it’s almost like we’re basically adults or something.

We met Peter outside of the apartment and he showed us the complicated key arrangements before saying goodbye. This apartment may be dinky but god was the building grand. The outside courtyard was lined with flower pots and iron balconies giving the whole thing a very big fairy tale vibe, in one word: magical.

Exhausted from a turbulent sleep and long day of travelling. Meg quickly fell into a long blink - it’s a nap, we all know it’s a nap - and I attempted to write for a bit before unexpectedly tumbling into the first non-transport nap I’ve had in a long long time - definitely a magical place.

After the unexpected nap, we showered and I made us dinner as we planned our next couple of days in Budapest.

Oh…

Oh…

Oh…

                                       Ohhh….

How could I forget the greatest part of this day. So, Meg is white, like White™, and to accompany her streaky sunburn was a new friend.

A glorious combination of mosquito bites, pressurised cabins and 48 hours in a hot stinky sock created a wonderful rash and swollen foot. We fashioned an ice pack out of a water bottle and a hair tie and just sat around admiring the mighty beast that was Meg’s new foot - seriously this thing was probably where they got Bigfoot from: he ain’t no hairy ape just Meg’s foot. Oh… and we named him Bobert.

— Mira Sophia

[bumblingtravels]

12. Venice

There and Back Again… an Interrailing Story

8 cities, 6 countries, 4 weeks, 2 rainbows, 1 camera

PART ONE — Venice

June 9th, 2018

Saturday morning saw a very early rise to be out of Barbara’s hair by 9am. Our host’s adorableness continued as she gave us biscuits and home-made cappuccinos to boost us through the early mornings.

When we left, Barbara outdid herself by gifting us each with a small Murano glass Venetian bracelet to remember her by. I think it’s safe t say Barbara got al the stars in her review.

The ice cream shop was closed so we couldn’t repeat yesterday’s breakfast and instead headed straight into Venice - we’ll have our ice cream breakfast there instead, what a hard life. Storing our bags at the station we set off in the direct of Saint Marcos and the promised park.

Our journey through this beautiful city was once again marked by gorgeous bridges and canal’s, but this time it was marred by extreme heat. I managed to guide us across the Rialto and to the breathtaking sight of Saint Marco’s Piazza and Church before we skirted the edges in search of the promised park.

Now, here’s where shi*t gets tricky. Venice is one of the most beautiful cities ever and I would hate to speak a word against it, but it can be a sneaky liar sometimes. This oh so anticipated part was locked up tight and under heavy construction, which is frankly just rude. Although this heartbreaking event dampened our spirits somewhat we were too stubborn to be dissuaded and instead headed i the direction of a Park… called Park - I know these Italian’s are so creative I don’t know how they do it.

A quick journey across the Academia bridge found us once again on the main island and we took a brief pause to sit by the river and have a quick snack. The day was already looking up and a further blessing came in the form of the University nearby using eduroam and we got some blissful free wifi - I’ve never loved Blackboard more.

Moving on from our sweet little wifi-adjacent spot, we continued on our way to the Promised Land. A further quick stop was needed to tweet James Blunt a picture of his face on a bin of course - priorities right.

Eventually our quest was completed and we reached the Valhalla of the Park called Park. We quickly set up camp on a little island of clovers and opposite a statue of some old geezer. Meg settled in for a ‘long blink’ - it’s a nap but don’t tell her I said that - and I wrote for a bit before doodling the doodle found seven pages before.

Exhausting our stay in Venice we wandered back to the train station and collected our bags before heading to Treviso Centrale where we were set to get het sleeper train to our next city.

Treviso Centrale was an unexpectedly tiny station and not exactly ideal for a two hour wait. Nevertheless, we stuck it out as trains came and went and our train got more and more delayed. One particularly gruelling moment came when an empty cargo train stopped at our platform and mocked us for 10 minutes like some empty, barren carcass of all our hopes and dreams.

Our train finally arrived 20 minutes late and we boarded it to find we were sharing a cabin with two basically 12 year olds who may have been running away from home. Our British sensibilities means we were originally guilted out of our OG window seats but after deciding “f**k this those are our best seats and you’re 12!” Meg’s scouse courage booted them off and we clawed our prize - it’s the small victories in life, by this point I’ll take what I can get. Also, no child who can’t even find their tickets and keeps dodging phone calls deserves my window seat!

Back in our rightful place we watched half of the Sense8 series finale - the tears and pain are real - before settling in for an up and down sleep.

Boredom seems to be a good inspiration network, at least trains seem to give me poems…

‘The wildest life I’ll ever life,

Not this one yet not the next.

The dainty tap of fairy feet,

Guide me to the memory hall.

I hope and dream to live it again,

But fail to live it true.

The wildest life I’ll ever live,

Was lived some time ago.

I dream of being that me again,

But that will not be so.

The only self I’ll ever know,

Is this truth you see.

The wildest life I’ll ever know,

Is faded into blue.’

- Mira Sophia