Berlioz gets on the red train. He didn't have time to get ready, he got to the foreign station just minutes before the train left and he had to buy his ticket first. He didn't even say goodbye, he jumped through the sliding door which was just like the doors of the tram, except theses weren't yellow, they were red. He sat next to the window as always (he was probably hoping to get hit by a stone, like that kid that was travelling with his grandmother and when Berlioz was little, it was all over the news). He saw huge tubes, lyrics pinned together, concrete fences and rubbish on the ground. The train made no noise at all as it made its way towards the three-meter-wide imaginary glass door. Berlioz should have felt like he was stuck in between two worlds, but the state he was really in was much worse. He thought of his dreams from two days before. "So that's what's keeping your mind busy." - M said to Berlioz. A sentence got stuck in his head, it pushed the part where his soul usually is and it screamed through Berlioz's every nerve-cell: "Somebody is going to die. And it's not going to be me."
A long time passed before it turned out, that Berlioz was wrong.
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