Old train stations just kind of hang in space when I remember them. They’re these islands, almost – stationary waypoints you stop at, get on, get off – they’re a stop before you get to where you’re going, but never where you’re actually going. Seems to be a recurring theme. Hotels, trains, stopover towns, unfamiliar cities. Stop at one to move to another. It’ll be there the next time you need to pass on through.
And there’s comfort in that, I suppose.