Incessant rains and a long drive
Blues on the radio and yellow streetlights
Conversations long and slow
Alternating patterns of light at play
Monday 21 July 2014
Not so strange ; in a foreign land
There I was, at 10 o'clock in the night on a London bus. On my way to a heartbreak.
The weather is London is highly favourable for heartbreaks. Cold and grey.
Lost deep in thought, I wondered where I had gone wrong. What was it that could help me save this relationship. Let him know that we were meant to be, we need to give each other some more time, we have to; knowing perfectly within, that the battle was long lost, what was left was surrender. Surrender to the dread of loneliness, guilt and the cold.
And like a scene out of the movie ' Inception', my mind jumped from stages of 'bad' to 'worse' to 'I will die alone' of brooding. A thought in a thought.
And then the bus stopped. I was on the wrong bus all along. And I knew I had to get off. Right stop or wrong. All I had to do was walk a little more to get to my stop.
And then I heard his voice. A calm, gentle kindness. 'Have faith, things will turn out fine!'
I looked up to see who it was. It was the bus driver. He had been observing me all along. It was the bus driver on the bus in London. He was a stranger. He knew I was having a bad day. He helped me heal in some strange way.
He was a stranger in a foreign land, or was he?
The weather is London is highly favourable for heartbreaks. Cold and grey.
Lost deep in thought, I wondered where I had gone wrong. What was it that could help me save this relationship. Let him know that we were meant to be, we need to give each other some more time, we have to; knowing perfectly within, that the battle was long lost, what was left was surrender. Surrender to the dread of loneliness, guilt and the cold.
And like a scene out of the movie ' Inception', my mind jumped from stages of 'bad' to 'worse' to 'I will die alone' of brooding. A thought in a thought.
And then the bus stopped. I was on the wrong bus all along. And I knew I had to get off. Right stop or wrong. All I had to do was walk a little more to get to my stop.
And then I heard his voice. A calm, gentle kindness. 'Have faith, things will turn out fine!'
I looked up to see who it was. It was the bus driver. He had been observing me all along. It was the bus driver on the bus in London. He was a stranger. He knew I was having a bad day. He helped me heal in some strange way.
He was a stranger in a foreign land, or was he?
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