Notice the railroad hats and bandanas.
Like modern day bedoin nomads, traveling invisible in plain sight. Their ultimate freedom made possible by America’s least remembered network. Still trundling away across the raw, untamed night. Long iron stampedes, blazing a path on steel rails leading squarely into the unknown, all manner of honest dreams in tow.
HT: That guy you pray isn’t your competition’s secret weapon, Olivier Blanchard.