I love my bed and spend most of the day fantasising about collapsing into it, but sometimes when I wake I’m disappointed to find myself still in it and not on a sleeper train rumbling across an unfamiliar land. Travel that transports you without a clear window on the journey is magical, as anyone who's ever climbed through 39,000 ft of solid cloud only to descend, a few hours later, somewhere where the air is warm and bright and smells of orange blossom, knows.
A Love Letter to Sleeper Trains
A Love Letter to Sleeper Trains
A Love Letter to Sleeper Trains
I love my bed and spend most of the day fantasising about collapsing into it, but sometimes when I wake I’m disappointed to find myself still in it and not on a sleeper train rumbling across an unfamiliar land. Travel that transports you without a clear window on the journey is magical, as anyone who's ever climbed through 39,000 ft of solid cloud only to descend, a few hours later, somewhere where the air is warm and bright and smells of orange blossom, knows.