It's loud, a regular cacophony of high compression ratio of diesel power plants. They assault the ears and nose and sense of vibration out here at the afternoon stop. The buses pound their way through the balmy air. The thick clouds above suggest imminent rain with their buffeting breeze heralding. Again I sit on a black-coated steel mesh seat amongst a variety of commuters from all walks of life. Most rush from their downtown office jobs, walking swiftly to the destination of daily choice.
Never have I witnessed such a driver that annunciates his words so clearly: "Third and James! King County Courthouse!"
The ending "S" resounds through the cabin like a hissing cobra. There is only a complete understanding of every single statement. Definitely this is not a typical situation. Of course in all the years riding public transit the muffled and ambiguous opposite is true. -And that is that with that.
It's funny to watch people wait for the bus from inside one, especially those with nothing to read or look at such as a phone or otherwise. I imagine I look funny too if I would happen to see myself from the same vantage. We never know how to position ourselves, our eyes, our stance, stashing our arms, level of comfort, and supposed concentration. It all must cast itself of and about bewilderment. Why it's so amusing to me I'm not sure. I think perhaps it reminds me of something, like a bunch of chickens being chased about by a toddler that just learned how to run from walking. The birds don't know quite where to go or how to take the sudden onslaught of the unusual or out of the ordinary. I wonder if we feel the same? When we're between our worlds of existence is there this tendency to fidget mentally? It's like we are unsure of or what to occupy our minds with during the alleged purposelessness.
0 comments:
Post a Comment