I sit motionless, falling in and out of a dreamless sleep. So silent it is when I wake that I forget I'm completely surrounded - yet ultimately alone - it's just me and forty-something others, on the road back to civilisation. The silence is occasionally broken with light meaningless banter, a cough or sneeze, and the constant rambling of the sometimes sinister thoughts that pass through my mind ever so casually. I'm not quite sure if it's just trickery, but I feel the ever present glare of the old lady next to me, so I examine her from my sneaky side-glance through my aviators; she just seems lonely and bored as she lightly shuffles - uncomfortable - in her seat. If only she could be in my mind even just for a moment, it may occasionally find itself lonely but I guarantee never an ounce of boredom shall it endure.
–Boredom isn't avail to the creative imagination, and it is a sad sin for the uninspired–
Her face is ageing yet I'm sure once beautiful. She twirls her reading glasses in her hand to numb the boredom (?) and current loneliness the years have brought her; her in her black pants and purple knit teeshirt, I'd ask her name but I worry I may pry or worst still become uninspired. So I continue to write and look out the window at passing countryside. I feel her eyes on me. I wonder again why it is so silent, why strangers can sit next to one another for hours on end yet not share even a handful of words. I know I'm a hypocrite as I write this, but I have always preferred to write my words as opposed to speak them. Although, I never shut-up around those closest to me, it's the new faces that make me nervous, nerves get the better of me, and I can't express myself.
The boy in the seat that could have been next to me yet is in front, he is beautiful. I wonder what could have been if he sat next to me; endless conversation and content eye contact, smiles and laughter as two strangers become less strange. Yet he is in the seat in front, next to an unknown face with a high set bun in her hair, they are silent and my brain - my beautiful yet ever so infuriating mind - cannot stop. His head of perfect messy hair closes in on 'bun-girls' shoulder as he nods off into dreamless sleep, to suppress the loneliness and I hope not boredom. Please not the boredom.
The reason behind the sleep being dreamless is because it is unnecessary. We don't really need sleep, we simply want to help the time pass. What we don't realise is that between the dreamless sleep and the aimless banter and grunts, we are slowly relating more and more to mans concept of the Zombie. I sometimes worry about the end of the world, the inevitable, the Zombie Apocalypse, and everyone becoming pirates and ultimately monsters themselves in order to prevent a death riddled life without any desires - apart from live brains. I stop thinking about Zombies and the fact that man is going to be the reason why man becomes extinct for a moment and I feel my hunger. I'm so hungry, yet I am too paranoid to eat the snacks I pre-purchased for the road. The chips make the loudest crunch and I fear I sound like a wild animal. The crunch is so loud in the silence that I am certain everyone can hear it, and I can't stand the thought of having forty-something sets of irritated eyes upon me.
Most of our surroundings out here in the middle of nowhere on the road to civilisation are dead. The trees, the grass, the shrubs have battled for life, as the dirt - dried out dirt - fights its way into the spotlight. Our sun, precious, glorious, riddled with happiness and potential warm memories, it shines upon nature and slowly kills it all; dries it out by forbidding the rain that is necessary for nourishment. It's all so dry, and on the verge of impending doom. I become parched and open my drink bottle to wet my entire mouth and soothe my drying throat; the bottle has been shaken by the roads and several precious drops sprout out wetting my dress. I imagine hearing the wind sail through the decaying grass outside and it whistles light its last dry breath. I feel a moments guilt as I saviour the refreshing liquid that eases my throat.
I spot a red metallic somewhat giant origami bird on the side of the road, I smile to myself as we come down a slight hill. From here I spot the city off in the distance, it seems remarkably small - the trickery of distance. We pass more and more vehicles at this point, and there are houses. We're close but not close enough. Factory style storage units, the perfect sign that you are closing in on the outskirts of the city, and there it is, I see it all from here - and it's grows bigger and bigger – I feel a pang of excitement and relief as I spot roadworks and freshly laid concrete/gravel roads, bright orange witches-hats, and an onset of traffic. Civilisation.
I want to strike up a conversation with the lady next to me, but I worry she'll find me strange for having not spoken sooner - being that it is nearly the end of our journey together. She sucks on hard candy lollies as she keeps a keen eye now on the traffic. "So close yet so far in this traffic" I'd say with a casual laugh. She would smile at me and nod in agreement as she went on to tell me how the loss of an unsatisfying husband had brought her the freedom she had so long desired, and that she was on her way to the city to meet up with an old High-school sweetheart, fifty-something years too late... Instead, still silence, broken by my sneeze left unblessed.
My excitement has dissolved into longing, longing to see my family. Yet Citylink tollway signs peer their ugly face at me, electric blue they beam in sheer arrogance. Suddenly it isn't so silent, there is light music, the sound of the road, and growing conversation - not so meaningless anymore - it is riddled with the excited knowledge that we are almost able to use our legs again, stretch out all the stiffening aches in our bodies. Relief, through the comfort of knowledge. I look to my left and take it all in. My home, my love, my Melbourne, more beautiful than ever. Surrounded by nameless faces, and soon to be named ones, yet I still can't help but wonder - what's your name? What's your story? Why are you next to me? As we step up to get off the bus we catch eye contact and smile. She makes a joke about people being in a rush, we laugh light and brief as I nod my head and say "Yeah."
&.the.bohemian.girl.xx.
