words as photographs

Today being 2 degrees outside, that meant a chance for ice on the road. I decided to take the bus. I got 5 minutes late the stop, at 8:30, I knew it as soon as I finished showering, sitting in my boxer shorts, sighing in front of the mirror. Didn't matter, I could still catch the next bus at 9:25 and be slightly late to work. So I get coffee, whittle away the time reading, carry on with the Red Station book (one that's not very good), I catch that bus. They switched drivers, and it was an old fella, the type that doesn't get this new electronic ticket machines. Different times, different times. After fiddling with it for what it felt like a cold eternity, I hop into it. It's the "slow" one to Didcot, goes all the way through Abingdon. I don't mind, I have my book. "So you like heavy metal?"

The answer must be yes. I do not engage in self-destruction. I try to keep balance. I am kind. I am courageous. I do not shy away from work, if the work is necessary and justified. Maybe I need to be more forgiving.