Trains are beautiful because they’re nothing but themselves. Trains are the epitome of being what they’re made to be. Trains are unaffected by everything around them. It’s as if they know who they are – strong – and nothing phases them. It doesn’t matter when people try to write their own words on them. They know that no assortment of vandalism made by insecure people makes them any less of who they really are: steady. Bold. Fearless.
What if we were like trains in that we didn’t let our circumstances define us?