“She liked traveling though she wasn’t much of a sightseer. She sat and looked out of the window. It was always the same countryside. Intrinsically it was boring, but to such an extent that the boredom became interesting. It was always the same and one could see that it had always been the same. The land was usually parched and ugly except where there were fields. When there were fields, there were peasants in them and these too were always the same: drab bodies in drab loincloths. They drew wat...er from wells or guided bullocks drawing plowshares. The wells, the bullocks, the plowshares, the dry land, the everlasting sun: they continued mile after mile, day after day, while the train traveled on. Inside the buses or trains it was also always the same. But whereas outside it was empty and silent, inside it was just the opposite. The public transport was always overcrowded. Crammed to bursting point. Everyone was traveling. They went to attend weddings, join pilgrimages, visit relatives in distant places.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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