i know, there's been so many posts about buses and bus rides lately... but it seems inevitable that i have to write about it again this time. i dont know, bus rides seem to strike a chord in me sometimes; i feel so anonymous, distant, and free to be observant.
today it kinda dawned on me, bus rides and life have a great resemblance. how far that resemblance goes, i don't know. people come and go, coincidences are often fulfilled when you see a familiar or recurring face or when you catalyze a moment with another person with just a single look, change in pace of environment, different destinations and stops that mark a different part of your journey home... wherever home may be. the thing is when you do get there, to your stop that is... is that really home? what is the true significance of where you get off? just like in life, what is the significance of the place you go back to everyday? is it really home? sure, it's love and comfort that makes a home but why there? is it necessary to have an established destination for home?
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i love that you acknowledge this. i used to ride the bus and trolley everywhere, everyday. and i loved to see people, randomly converse occasionally, and just really sit back, almost hidden, and watch. it feels almost like this is life at one of its most rough and purest forms. i discovered a lot in those years of public transportation. i really should spend a day on the bus and trolley sometime. as for the presence of a home i completely relate. its strange though, i cant necessarily explain it but i feel it. so this is where i just nod my head as some odd consolation and mutual understanding...
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