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Buses don't work on Saturday. They tend to explode, so I don't ride them too often, unless like I'm in India or something, cause there you can't get around in any other way. It was Yom Kippur. That's definitely a day the buses don't work on. Nothing moves on Yom Kippur. Judaism doesn't leave a lot of space for remorse, sins or regrets. But this one day - this one day of the year is all about being judged by ourselves, by god. Nothing moves. Here in NY the busses won't stop on Saturday. They won't stop on Yom Kippur. I heard they kept on running through 9/11. This city lives 24/7. This city never halts. I love it. I'm afraid of it. I had to. So I took the bus. |
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For the city, an hour and a half is a lot of time. When you're in the city it feels like you are on the air in some radio show. 2 minutes is a lot of time. Things just keep on happening all around all the time. There are buses in NY, but you can live here and never use them. Never even notice them. They can be as transparent as the polluted air we breathe here. Going on the bus for an hour and a half? Well it might be interesting, Red told us to do it | |
 The bus is almost empty. Why does she choose to sit next to me? Can't she pick up another seat. I don't want her here. "Leave! Please!" I shout in my head. I try to ignore my thoughts and click some more photos on the shutter. When is she getting off? I can't breath! |
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Every 5 minutes, less, every 2 minutes the bus stops at a station (bus stop). People go on, people get off, it's no subway station, but it has its own share of hustle and bustle. The people change, the scenery changes, the buildings, the advertisements, the shop signs, the skies. It takes more than an hour and a half. It continues on and on, I have no idea when it's going to stop. My mood changes as frequent as the bus stops. My thoughts wander with the new passengers sitting behind me. I'm afraid it will never end. I am being late for a dinner at my friends place. | |
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These couple of young girls that sat behind me held plastic cell phones, you know the type that doesn't even look like a real phone. They were speaking on it, each to her own imaginary friend, like two low budget wannabe actresses, loud, pretentious, sweet like a lollipop. I was wondering how I used to play being grown up as a kid. I felt slightly sick realizing that their imitation of the real life is being loud on the phone on a bus. Is this what they see when they look at us?
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I feel nauseous. It's so crowded. I listen to other people talk. I would overhear it even if I didn't try. I am so tired. Where the hell am I??? STOP |
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