Originally published in QUIRK-E Collections Volume 5
Today I climbed aboard a bus not intent on a destination; rather I bore to fully experience stimulation of my imagination by focusing a penetrating gaze on the other bus riders. This is not something I would necessarily appreciate myself though I suppose some of them could be observing me. These days I spend much of my time in solitude, more introverted than any time in my past life and frequently do not particularly like the full extent of exposure public transportation requires of me.
Feelings rise in me of not being just another passenger minding her own business. If I’m going to watch, listen, and feel their energy then their wells up a sense of responsibility to be as unobtrusive as possible, nonjudgmental, and definitely not another abrasion of the city. So I keep my eyes softly, focus, and dwell only briefly on a face if eye contact is made, then I flash a small smile and move my gaze along.
Fellow across from me in this chance meeting, I freely offer you my consideration of your details. Possible assumptions pop into my head. I acknowledge to myself I can assume a great deal, but then it is my story, not yours. Let it be what it is that your hair, your clothes, the shoes on your feet speak to me of endurance, where I might have had none. The way you hold your body and those haunted hooded eyes say you are not the predator in this jungle city. You may have known love, and you give your seat to someone weaker. Now you leave the safety of the bus for the meanest streets in the city unaware you’ve had effect on me. Unaware my best wishes go with you today. I turned my attention to another passenger and then another.
