The train was late, the A/C broken, the window screwed shut, the compartment an oven. A few stops before Rabat two young women got on, one in a tight skirt, hair flowing, made up. Hello, coast: goodbye, interior. We stepped off the train into the ocean breeze.
Meknes to Rabat, Porto after Madrid — by the ocean, one breathes freely.
Or is it…in capitals one breathes freedom…?