Leaving Ulaanbaatar

The train rolls out quietly. The late sunset coated the small village with a gradation of dusty gold. Three weeks ago we saw a similar view out the window of an arriving train, but it was more or so like a postcard. We can now see through walls to imagine children running around and through ger to picture mother preparing a meal by the stove.


We woke up in the morning to an open desert; Gobi. Within our limited vision through an endless land, there is an ger, alone like a spaceship that just landed on an inhabited planet. I quietly sent a thanks for the past three weeks, and only then my expectation slowly raised its head out of a vow as we came closer to the border of our next country unknown.