Object Writing, Prose & Poetry Forum

May 21, 2019, 02:48:12 AM
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This week's words;

Sunday - Instructions

Monday- Motorcycle

Tuesday- Wildflower

Wednesday- Asparagus

Thursday- Stopwatch

Friday - Confetti


Word of the Day
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Author Topic: Transport  (Read 149 times)
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« on: August 21, 2018, 10:35:56 PM »

I step groggily into the bus, tumbling as it starts up while I'm still taking the ticket out of the wallet. I validate it and walk down the aisle to the last seat of the long bus, reaching the light of the new born sun flooding from the sea through the window to the left side of the bus. I drown on the seat, I dive into the light, eyelids half shut, the buzz of the engine behind me, coughing black burps of carbone monoxide and lead to the still clear, still beautiful summer morning air.
The bus moves along the grey arteries and veins of a city flooded by tourists that rained from the plains from here and there, beyond the mountains and over the seas, buzzing, swarming over the sidewalks, the terraces, the museums, they move around and surrounds everything with a layer of strangeness that veils everything, that disjoints the city from the very foundations and place it in brand new colorful tourist guides, all smelling of ink and plastic and so many copies moving to all places over the globe. I fell dizzy, I need to rest, I need to feel my mind is anchored within the skull, and that the bus will no take longer to get me to the office and look to the University bell tower as the axis, the center, the union of the past and the present that will settle all the movement in an harmonic song.
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