Passengers from Recitement [Album] by Stephen Emmer

Ever since childhood, when I lived within earshot of the Boston and Maine, I have seldom heard a train go by and not wished I was on it.

Those whistles sing bewitchment: railways are irresistible bazaars, snaking along perfectly level no matter what the landscape, improving the mood with speed, and never upsetting your drink.

If a train is large and comfortable you don't even need a destination, but I had chosen Asia.

Anything is possible on a train: a great meal, a binge, a visit from cardplayers, an intrigue, a good night's sleep, and strangers' monologues framed like Russian short stories.
It was my intention to board every train that chugged into view from Victoria Station in London to Tokyo Central;
to take the branch line to Simla, the spur through the Khyber Pass, and the chord line that links Indian railways with those in Ceylon;
the Mandalay Express, the Malaysian Golden Arrow, the locals in Vietnam, and the trains had bewitching names, the Orient Express, the North Star, the Trans-Siberian.

I sought trains; I found passengers.

• Classical
• Lou Reed
• recitement
• spoken word
• spoken word poetry
• stephen emmer
• Amsterdam