I was here once. Dropping off my grandma to hop on a train to visit her sisters. Since she can’t drive comfortably on freeways, this is the route she always decided to take when she wanted to see them. It was so beautiful inside the train station, like something out of a movie. The halls even echoed when my heels clicked the clay tiled floors. I came back because it made me feel some type of way.
I always looked up to the sky as planes or trains passed by and wondered where they were headed. These sorts of places gave me the travel bug. It was one ticket away from going somewhere I have never gone before. There’s always something magical about that.