Passed Thompson, where I could feel and smell the arctic (it's in the air, a quiet yet piercing cold, a pure air like the one you may find on high mountains), the train stopped in the middle of nowhere...and it was beautiful. Dogs running around, some native americans came up to the side of the train, greeting people coming down. A little further ahead, we came on a bridge above a river, glistening orange and silver in the setting sun. A few yards off, on the bank of the river, stood a cabin, or maybe a house, its canoes and people waiting. It was peaceful, quiet, isolated. What kind of a life do you live in a place like this? Probably the type of life people lived at the time of the first colonies: isolation, peace, harmony? Is that a cliche? Maybe ... However, this is what I had imagined I would see in Canada, a long time ago, and that I had forgotten in Toronto. Canada does have an ancient soul, a strong native-american spirit. It is here, under the dancing northern lights those ancient spirits in the sky. I will never forget waking up in the train, after more than 24 hours, seeing those fascinating dancing lights up above. Gloomy, explosive, multicolored. How these must have been looked upon in awe and wonder. So many stories must be associated to them. People probably died looking at them, some other were probably born under their peaceful glance.
Mysticism is in the air...
|
