([Inaudible] text for our performance at Edge of Wrong tomorrow night.)
a bus stop. it is raining, minimal visibility so the sounds are amplified, almost threatening. not really seeing where the sound is coming from…or seeing what is making it…grinding metal, gaping mouth. colliding, hurtling, braking to avoid. I wait…my head is busier than my body in that moment. and moments similar to these always draw out thoughts of suffering, mortality, irrational fear, my loved ones dying painfully. the idea of being alone seems squared, cubed, today. waiting offers no solace, no purpose… especially when you are drenched, your shoes are squelchy. a dim floating orange comes floating through the hazy emptiness, the led display on the front of this bus is illegible but the glow is not long enough to suggest that it is going to my destination. it stops…grinding metal, the scent of brake fluid, badly maintained machinery. a door creaks open, outdated hydraulic movements. for the first time this morning, I catch a glimpse of something that reminds me of interaction. someone on the bus uses their hand to open a gap on the window. for a moment, just as the bus pulls away, their hand stops circling against the glass. I feel exposed, seen and wonder whether raising my hand in a wave would be the appropriate reaction. the bus disappears into the now empty haziness.