What happens when someone teaches you that the future and the past do not exist?
That only the present matters.
Life can change from one moment to the next, and our plans become obsolete.
In the right place, at the right time, fate brought together...
I watch through the window as the landscape moves at full speed before my eyes. The Trans-Siberian train covers many miles each hour, the last city has been left in the dust as we approach the next. That is the purpose of this trip, to visit cities and towns that do not even appear on the map across seven time zones, between Moscow and Vladivostok, on the 5,772-mile train track.
And here I am, in this lonesome little dining carriage, where I like to spend my days drinking coffee, the peace and tranquillity beneficial for my creative process. I sit staring at the blank page on my laptop waiting for inspiration to strike before writing a word of what will be my next book.
But so far, that has not happened. In the three days that I have been traveling aboard this train, I have not been able to do anything other than observe the landscapes that have changed from sea-like lakes to dense birch forests. As beautiful as it is, I have become increasingly frustrated, what was going to be my great adventure, is turning out to be a complete failure. I have not thought of a word, a phrase, or even one miserable idea of what I might write about.
I came to the Trans-Siberian with the hope of hearing the many stories of its passengers and maybe gain some insight from them. But in my well thought out plan, it did not occur to me that on a train that crossed the entire Asian continent, nobody would speak Spanish. And of course, I do not speak Russian. So, communication has been an issue, I have managed to get by with the little English I know.
'A writer must write to live.'
Until now that phrase has been my life motto. But right now, the doubt is overwhelming, I am starting to think that this trip will not provide the answers I was looking for. Maybe at the next stop I will return to Moscow and take a flight back to Mexico. Or maybe I will travel to Europe and find some interesting stories. I only know that I have no fixed destination or permanent stop, I will go where life takes me as always, there is nothing and no one to return to. Not even the lack of money has been an issue. I am not a millionaire by any means, but I enjoy travelling and this has become my way of life. As long as I have my laptop, a small suitcase and some money, I will continue to travel in the hope that something will inspire me to write an incredible story.
My thoughts are interrupted, by the noise of someone entering what, until now, had been my favourite carriage, daring to disrupt my concentration and unwavering dedication to my next 'best-seller'.
I direct my gaze to the intruder who does not acknowledge my presence. To my surprise it is a young woman, she sits at my table directly in front of me, completely ignoring that I am there.
She turns towards the window and observes the landscape as I had minutes before. She seems focused, like she is concentrating on the earth speeding past at hundreds of miles per hour. The woman does not appear to have noticed me, which is really infuriating. We are only separated by the table where my laptop rests. So, it is impossible that she has not noticed that there is someone else sitting right in front of her. How can someone have such bad manners?
After a few minutes I realise that I have not taken my eyes off her since she sat down. I have been so absorbed in my angry inner monologue, that I feel like I have been spellbound staring at her.
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Okay Juliana, this Asian trip is turning out worse than you thought. If you do not look away now and continue your task, of doing nothing, on your computer, that girl will think you are a psycho. Well, if she realises that you exist, of course.
She is beautiful, I muse, ignoring my conscience. I can only see her profile, but she is a very pretty girl. Her long, slightly wavy, light brown hair falls on her thin shoulders. I like that colour, it looks completely natural. The clarity gives it a dazzling shine, making it eye-catching and full of vitality. From my position I cannot see the colour of her eyes, but I can see that they are not too big. Her nose is fine, like her lips, perfectly defined. And her skin... Her skin is pale, like the snowflakes falling outside the train window. Her skin gives off an aura of life that fills the room, I imagine it must be extremely soft to touch.
Soft? But what the hell does that mean? Why would I want to know what her skin feels like? And since when did I develop the habit of appraising a woman I don't even know? Or any woman. WOW! I have spent too many days alone, clearly it has not been good for me. I must be very bored!
Again, and this time I am relieved, someone interrupts my strange thoughts, entering my 'now not so lonely' carriage.
The waiter turns to the woman and they exchange a few words. I watch the scene in complete silence. I see how he writes down her request on a small piece of paper, but I am unable to hear a word. I feel like someone has lowered the volume on the TV and I can only see the picture playing before me. The boy exits the carriage, leaving us alone again.
When I finally come out of my trance and decide to return to my writing, her gaze locks with mine, making my body tremble. Instantly, a tension invades each and every one of my organs, I feel like a little girl who has just been caught red-handed. I was discovered and yet I cannot take my eyes off those expressive blue eyes. Now I can fully appreciate them, they are intense and bright, like the sea, they seem to hold some hypnotic power over on me.
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Minutes passed, or maybe it was just seconds. I couldn't say for sure, my perception of time seemed to be distorted. Our gazes remained riveted on each other, with no intention of moving away. Although for my part, it seemed impossible to do so.
Until, the woman in front me ended the uncomfortable silence, her lips produced the most beautiful smile I have ever seen in my life.
"Hola," she whispered.
Her voice was infinitely sweeter than I imagined.
"Hello," I replied, thanking God for not letting me appear as dumbstruck as I felt.
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This story is not mine, the original story is from the author JackieValand
This is a translation of the adaption by achagasmile
