an old writer and his words

It is small, dark and desolate,tucked away in a cornerthat no one wants to visit.They all stop there, as required,but only rarely does anyoneget off and it always seemsa sudden, reluctant decision.Most don’t even peer out the windowswhen it stops there, they averttheir gaze wondering if anyonewill rise to leave, not wantingto be seen looking,…