Rail Baltic is not a railway. Not a railway that takes trains to Europe. It is a line. A straight line.
This line cuts Estonia in half – it doesn’t ask about villages, nature, heritage, or people.
It doesn’t move toward a destination – it moves straight. Straight through everything.
Like a ruler-drawn line of retreat.
Because that’s exactly what it is – a line of retreat.
Rail Baltic is an imaginary border, beyond which lies what is still worth protecting.
What lies to the west – that’s where the elite, the rulers, the capital, and their “morality” will be evacuated.
What lies to the east is meant to be surrendered. In military terms: a temporarily lost position. In plain language: betrayal.
Estonia has not decided to build a connection with Rail Baltic.
It has decided to build a rampart.
A high embankment on which rails will be laid, and beneath them lies the land – black soil.
Forest, farms, movement, animals, birds, mythology, memories.
This is not development. This is drifting away.
Not Estonia joining Europe, but the elite fleeing Estonia.
A train that takes away those who have a ticket – at our expense.
And who gets left behind?
Those whose homes were buried under underground noise.
Those whose voices went unheard.
Those who don’t fit on the train, because the train isn’t meant for them.
Because it’s not even a train.
It’s a golden lifeboat. An evacuation platform. A modern ark.
Those who don’t make it aboard are not part of the plan.
And the plan is cruel.
Don’t laugh – this isn’t absurd.
This is exactly how a system behaves when it’s afraid.
A system that knows it is not loved, only tolerated.
And so it must protect itself – not from the people, but by fleeing from the people.
“We have money!” echoes comfortingly through the concrete.
Yes, we do.
-Hannes Võrno, Facebook
