Have you ever heard about the railway lost and found? Everything that’s left behind on trains; business people’s umbrellas, the teddy bears of small children, the odd prosthetic limb, gets brought together like so much drift wood on a storm-hit beach. Some gets reclaimed, but most never does. People assume their things are lost forever and don’t even try to get them back. The lost and found becomes a museum of forgetfulness, a gallery for the distracted, a display of “oh crap that’s my station”.
I wonder, if I were to sit on a train long enough, would I be picked up? Would I be put on a shelf next to the umbrellas, bears and limbs? Would I be forgotten? I hope not. I hope, even if I were to become lost, that I’d be found again.