September 26, 1898 [Going Through the Tunnel]

The train slips into the tunnel—but it emerges again too quickly. I anticipated the plunge into the dark, the swallowing up—and it was as effortless as it should have been, the easy loss, Edison turning off the lights. Again, though, I wanted it to last, at least a while—I appreciated the lady near me who let out a small gasp when the theater suddenly darkened.

But the light returned, the embankments rough and the people along the tracks incidental, all of us now merely spectators—even though, near the end, we leapt ahead of the train and suddenly there it was coming at us from the distance. It took me a second to re-orient myself, to decide exactly where I stood, so to speak.

So then, who is moving here? Me or the train? If only we'd had more time in the tunnel, I would've been able to decide. As it was, in less than a minute the moment passed, like a train I'd wanted to board, but it was already moving away, or toward, me.