thoughts while in-transit

Ammu. Sophie Mol. Your spirits visit me in the bus.


No junk food for my soul please. It is sick, and it needs TLC.
My seatmate keeps doing the tsk sound.
And now the public school boys and girls entered the public bus, very fitting.


I forgot what “by and large” means. Randomly missing Kazuo Ishiguro’s writing. Never Let Me Go has been real good, the quintessential page-turner, so deserving of my five stars.


The girl conductor who collected my bus fee earlier had a blue tshirt on, with “Gloria” imprinted on the left chest part. And I distinctly remembered Gloria who serviced a bus I rode before. I was pleased to meet her again (small world Eureeka moments are such dopamine inducers). But I was deceived. The conductor’s name wasn’t Gloria. It is the bus’s name. And a tremendous number of Gloria conductors are in their respective buses strutting about in the isles deceiving people like me.


If I could write forever, I would.


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