the train that taught me to stop and listen
Today I came home by a different route than usual, I was coming from a different place from my office because I had errands to run.
Lately, when I drive, I do not listen to music: it is part of my path of detachment from the many small things I used to use as a stopgap for empty moments. For example, music for the quiet moments and usually videos, TV series or movies for the moments when I have nothing in particular to do.
I also got into the habit of not using the air conditioner. At home it comes easy to me, although it is 36-38 °C outside, in the ground floor of the country house where I live it is like being in a cave, it is always the same temperature all year round. In the car the situation is different, but I'm sure that having never used it since the beginning of summer I'm getting used to driving without it and in general I feel the heat much less.
The situation was unreal, i crossed the fields and encountered one other car in fifteen minutes of driving, it's late afternoon and from the sun to the fields everything is yellow and orange. At some point I had to stop for a railway crossing, the train took a lot to pass, but it was a moment frozen in time. Of course i stopped the engine and there was total silence, a silence that usually you can only hear at night, occasionally interrupted by a bird or by the wind moving some cans used to keep the magpies away. There was a smell of dry wood and straw and I was barely paying attention to the heat, although in fact there was nothing in particular to distract me, everything caught my attention.
Be present, less is more.