Cemetery of the Steam Trains
An odd place. All appears old and rotten. Steal, hard and solid appears like paper now. The nature with grass, dosh and even trees does slowly overwhelm the huge and formerly proud machines.
It is cold and windy. Rain starts to fall out of the grayish and cloudless sky.
The machines start to make noises, such as whispering to each other.
Better to go now.
A reflexion of aging and decline.