On December 30, 1999, I took an InterCity train from Geneva to Lausanne.
My seat was dark brown, just like a dead branch color.
Looking out of the window, I found Lac Léman, and over there, the top of Mont Cervin covered with white snow. Besides Mont Cervin, houses gathered on a slope, woods stood in a huge field, which looked like thin splints, were all covered with snow.
The couple sat on the opposite seat to me were loudly joking, speaking and quarreling in French. As the train was leaving from Lausanne and running on a line through a fold of hills, I said good-by to Lac Léman. The snow sheet on a road was becoming thick.
Finally, there was snow everywhere, and a couple of houses were spotted on it.
Next stop was Zurich.
Here was in a morning train, from Geneva to Lausanne, Swiss.
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