![]() Soon there were three stick figures – a man, a woman, and a child – holding hands. He raised a finger and started to draw on the window. When he leaned back, he saw the imprints on the fogged-up, dirt-streaked glass. In the middle of the bu, a little boy knelt on his seat with his hands and nose pressed against the window. Tucked beside him was an old violin with two strings – the bow was taped together in several places and looked as it would fall apart. Sleepy eyes stared ahead as the city rolled past. He lifted his head from his hands as the bus hit a bump in the road. He wore a black trench coat and a red scarf around his neck. There was a man seated behind the bus driver. The huge doors were open and people moved in and out of the building in a hurry. The bus sped past the new government building with its large windows and the national flag in front of its gates fluttering in the wind. In her other hand, she clutched a flower pot with a cactus plant – it looked dead. She would have been described as beautiful if she paid a little more attention to her looks. It was disturbing to see her small frame leaning heavily on a cane as she hobbled towards the back of the bus. She smiled softly at the driver as she paid her fare, but her eyes were guarded. There were few passengers already on the bus.Ī young woman was the last to climb into the bus. Those that had braved the cold morning and were waiting for the bus were relieved to see it rattling to a stop. The streets were yet to be filled with people, but the bus was right on schedule. The air was crisp and clean with the faint smell of ozone. It was a cold morning after the night’s rain and the heavy clouds still drifted lazily in the sky. You know that life is not picture-perfect, and you’ll break your heart no matter how hard you try.īut you will try…and that makes all the difference. Yet you pull yourself together and get up from your bed. You are convinced that the only thing you are good at is failing. The quiet voice in your head that comforts you is drowned by your thousands of worries. No pop song telling you to live your best life. There’s no motivation speech sending you out the door. You want to run on the beach, with the wind blowing in your hair, the sun shining in your eyes, and a big smile on your face.Ī picture that will stay that way forever and ever. Just like every other person in this world you wish life is a picture. ![]() You are not the firstborn child of pessimism or a prophet of doom. You know better because life has burned you more times than you can count…a lot of times. And luck and destiny are not always poor bedfellows. Perhaps good things don’t have to show up with the bad in tow. You want to believe your smiles won’t always turn into frowns. Maybe today will be better than yesterday… You know you have to do it again – this thing called life – and it leaves you trembling. It’s morning and it sucks, and motivational speeches cannot convince you otherwise.
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