Coming out of the rumbling body of an iron track — an electric train to an abandoned half-station of a stopping point, you involuntarily feel rejoicing at the realization that you have left the car alone. None of the passengers have anything to do on this small island, reminiscent of the activities of man with crumbling concrete slabs from time to time and weather changes. Seeing the curved blue body of the train, you wait for the millennial taiga to absorb the noise of the steel wheels and return to its low chirping, ringing chirping, dull knock, soft rustle, uterine rumbling, wet flopping.