.:June 4th:.

WARNING: the longest post ever without photos - written on a trip to Milan

There I go again, two weeks worth of useless wonderings fighting burocracy relentlessly as part of my routine... Another train, another trip to Milan, but hopefully, not another disappointment...

While watching the trees and rivers and crops fly by my window I caught sight of my seat neighbour... He had an ipad... I swept my eyes down the aisle and noticed that everybody but me was caught up in a range of techy devices... I was practically the only one gazing out of the window, even though I wasn't gadget free: my phone was enough distraction as I waited for the train to arrive, trying hard to listen to my first voice mail ever over the morning buzz of the busy station... Adding to that, my ipad laid forgotten inside the bag, just in case, because it held both the confirmation of my appointment in the office and my train ticket bought on line the night before...

The only difference between me and the rest of the passengers is that I was momentarily absorbed by other distractions... I'm pretty sure that were I to take this trip daily I would seek out other forms of entertainment, just like this mass of people surrounding me... But in the hope of this being my last imposed trip to Milan in a close future, the wonders of the trip were not lost upon me yet...

Out of curiosity (because you guys know I'm not curious to the brink of nosy, right?) I focused my attention on my neighbour... He was reading something, but just like the books I'm currently reading this one was imprisoned in the boundaries of a more practical asset, his tablet... It was difficult to observe his reading habits without the revealing properties of an open book (yeah, that is when the expression hit home... there should be a reason for it to exist, right? just like raining cats and dogs...) a paperback, not an electronic one...

There was no cover to indicate the mood of the story, to show me the name of the author or the title of the book itself... There wasn't the sturdiness nor the volume of the stacked pages to hint me about the type of reading, was it a long reading or a light one? How far into the plot had this particular reader been immersed? I could not know without staring most intently, bordering on  indiscretion, into the screen in front of him... (then again, guess that is one of the reasons why people wear sunglasses, isn't it? the staring bit without being spotted... )

Then I ached... I ached for the average town girl who would sit next to him after I left... I ached because he was kind of good-looking and seemed friendly enough... I ached because how was the girl supposed to engage into conversation using the book as an excuse? She could only work with wild  guesses, she had not even the name of the story... The makeshift pages on the screen gave in nothing... Which question to use? This book looks kind of interesting, is it any good? That is a good author, is it his first book for you? Oh, I love this series. How do you like it so far? Everything was a moot point...

All through the second half of my trip, entranced by the mystery of the secret book, I tried to spot something, anything that would shed some light on this puzzle (yeah, I know... curious through and through... it is kind of a bug, or a condition... whatever)... After minutes of intense concentration being as stealthy as I managed to (it must have been pretty stealthy because he didn't tell me off for spying on his book, so yay for the detective in me!) I finally saw a name on the page, almost like an old friend: "Ned"... then, ohhh, realization shot through me as I remembered the teenage talk I heard on the bus weeks ago as they shouted excitedly about the broadcasting of the first season of GOT in the open channel... It was supposed to be aired in June...

My neighbour had but started reading, I was long past that point in the story, so I knew enough to be able to place this passage in the whole of the book... Just a coincidence to be reading the same book, something his next neighbour (you know, the girl who would want to talk to him but would be stomped by his difficult-to-imply-from electronic book) would most likely not share... Or maybe it was kind of a trend with adolescents right now, so who knows? The point is, had I not read the book myself I wouldn't have been able to recognize it, and all my chances to started a conversation about it would have been lost...

Getting off the train I felt like I missed something... I missed the simplicity of personal interaction like I had in the same trip yesterday... A two-hours long ride was enough time to get to know someone a little bit, or deepen the bond a smidge more... The day before my husband and I spent the trip in the bar car, looking out of the window, talking about the scenery, sharing stories, memories, impressions, amusing ourselves with small talk and making each other laugh at our antics...

I took another look at my neighbour and though that he surely had this in his life, people open enough, close enough to have a heart to heart or just be silly with without having to worry... but at that precise frozen moment I felt sad... sorry for him and all the others on this bland state of life, sorry for the girl who would strike up a chat with him and maybe make their day a little bit brighter... I left hoping against hope, that the new generation won't loose the wonders of eye to eye conversation, friendly warm hugs, hand in hand walks, cheek to cheek dances and hair strokes... I hoped my daughter would get all of it, the best parts of our hastly changing world...