Turn, turn, turn

You get on a buss, you are told it won't stop. Not because the drivers are mad or the stops too sad. It's just how you want it, you don't even need to say it. You sit down, and it starts.




The mad thing is, people get on and off anyways. Even if the speed touches a hundred, even if the nearest layers of the landscape outside become a blurry dance of swirling grass straws and strawberry swings.









Maybe you didn't even "choose it". Maybe it's just all you wanted. And you aren't surrounded by ghosts. The ones who are speaking to you and laughing with you and punching you on the tongue with a smile every time you say something stupid, are the ones you've always loved, and always have been there, and are concrete like the ground you walk on during the day, and light like the clouds you sleep on at night.






And your binary system melts down to one at last, and starts rolling as fast as the wheels of your bus. Months pass like lightnings and tornados, and you think you don't even have the time to turn around, and think.






But you do. You turn around the earth, you turn yourself around, the inside and the outside, you turn past and future and thoughts upside down, and you start loving plans again, because you can only touch them with your brain and you don't need the fingers for it. And you can change them because they're like plastiline, but they look better, and still they feel as solid as your feelings, as solid as today. You turn so much that thoughts and feelings finally start making sense. Everything that was brightens up, everything that will be shines because it's unpredictable, and beautiful. And I, I don't even know what I'm writing about. And it just feels so good. This might be the only untouchable thing that is more real than what you can touch.