journey

As the train moves south the light seems to brighten in contrast to the darkening of the sky. Clouds like huge islands, grey purple and surly.
Trees livid green in the golden light, jewels against the bruised skin of the sky.
The feeling of foreboding grows in the pit of my stomach, London is like a drug;
as soon as I inhale it I will forget everything else.
I will surely forget this beauty exists.