New Year’s Day, reflecting on the past, projecting into the future, as I ramble up the east coast on a languid train, drenched in the low golden light. The cruel beauty of filming out the window of a train is that you never know what’s coming. The greatest prize for the eyes is always water, serenely still and expansive, holding the sky in its iridescent face. Sometimes you glimpse it through the trees, unsure of when it will explode back into view, like a holy revelation. But since the landscape is in constant motion, if you’re not paying attention, maybe looking down at your phone, and you miss it, it’s gone forever. Sound familiar?