A view from a train. A chapped, sun-dried terrain, yet amidst the rock bed of some non-existent river, the promising black-blue depths of water  …

(As a rule, I never use ellipses. However my poetry here, in case you didn’t notice, has surprised me so much, I must make an exception.)

“When an underground train … stops too long”

When an underground train, in the tube, stops too long between stations
And the conversation rises and slowly fades into silence
And you see behind every face the mental emptiness deepen
Leaving only the growing terror of nothing to think about

T. S. Eliot. “East Coker.”