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371 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published January 1, 1985
Sometimes with my eyes closed, and the silence broken only by the odd bird, I would hear whispered messages of the land that intuitively I understood, if only for a moment. Eventually I came to respect those moments, for the cycle of logical questions was getting me nowhere.
Still, the rhythm of the rails is always seductive, and the passing frames race by like so many childhood fantasies, alive in color and light.
Still, along with the easy happiness I had come to associate with the country, I was aware of a new and perhaps less superficial sensation—that sense of familiarity and alienation that comes to one who knows a place well, but who can never hope to become a part of it.