”I don’t even know if I’m going to be alive 555 days from now”, said the boy to the girl and gave her a kiss under the streetlight, on the icy street. This morning while waiting on the bus – on an equally icy street, under another streetlight – a girl was hysterically crying to a friend on the phone. She was afraid of failing a test they were going to take later on during the day. I wanted to hug her, tell her that “really, it’s just one test. It has no importance for anything. Few things in life are so important that you should cry about them, a test is not one of these things”. Oh, youth! Listening to these young people brought back a lot of bittersweet memories – and a conviction that things did turn out quite well in the end.
Public transportation has a special meaning to me – not only is it the perfect place for people-watching, but it’s also a place where I’ve traditionally made up some pretty hardcore decisions. Therefore I’ve been spending lots of time on the bus lately – trying to convince my brain to come up with some creative ideas. Even though things turned out quite well, it would be silly to say that they couldn’t be better.
A lot of friends have received good news lately: there have been new jobs, babies, school… This is great: seems like 2012 is the lucky year – for everyone except my brother who recently put his (fairly new) iphone in the washing machine. Turned out it’s not waterproof.
Alright, folks: it’s Friday and the weekend is just around the corner. What are your plans? My plan is to vote, write an essay on flow and have a couple of glasses of red. The library can also expect a visit.
Here’s something to ponder upon during the weekend:
“When we walk to the edge of all the light we have and take the step into the darkness of the unknown, we must believe that one of two things will happen. There will be something solid for us to stand on or we will be taught to fly.” – Patrick Overton -