To Our Readers

You could see the fire roaring through the little metal door that the engineer would open periodically to throw in some coal. There was also the white steam that was let out at some intervals, making the whole train station disappear in a white cloud. The steam engine stood there, huge and imposing. It was like magic. Especially for a nine-year-old boy on his first day of summer vacation. In a few moments the train would be set in motion, and the colorful fields, dark forests, and imposing mountains would whiz by in swift succession.

I had dreamt of this moment for weeks. But as we had approached this much-desired departure date, tension had set in. There had been thousands of things to accomplish. And finally, it was a mad dash to the train station.

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July 24, 2000
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