i pressed my hand against the cool glass of the bus window, the print of my palm wiping away the dewy moisture from the freezing winter morning. outside it was fog and frost and cars and traffic blurring their way through the city. inside it was quiet and stranger’s silence and like another dimension; the faint yellow lights down the aisle illuminating the passengers’ tired faces.
outside, the enormous buildings revealing the dark and tantalising history of the city, the gothic structures contrasting with the business men and women with their cardboard coffee cups and briefcases in hand.
inside, itchy navy blue tights and an unlabelled plastic water bottle to sustain me for the rest of the day.
the morning was wonderful in its twisted simplicity, a million people doing a million things, and me on the bus, watching it all.