Twenty-nine hours into a train journey, I sit in the observation car with a small can of Budweiser and watch as the desert passes by. A girl on an adjacent seat asks if I know where we are. I don't but we strike up a conversation. She is the daughter of a horse farmer from Kentucky and we are headed for the same destination.
We get another drink, some nuts and hummus and talk about America. We move onto the question of international relations, the stranglehold of capitalism and her brother's engagement to a girl who treats him badly. At a city famous for Mormons, we take a walk along the platform and enjoy some fresh air.
The desert turns to black, the snack bar closes and we head back to our seats to attempt some sleep.
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