«Do you ever think about it?»

«A little bit of context would be useful. What should I think about? Pizza? University? The Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything?»

«No, no, what are you talking about!?»

«How bad, I knew the answer to the last one...»

«Do you ever think about public transport?»

«Do you mean like this one? The bus we’re on right now? No, never thought about it, only every day when I must take one to go here and there to get some kind of education.»

«No, no, no, no bro, you haven’t understood. Do you ever think about what happen in public transport? We’re all closed in this tin box, piled, crushed, with this smell of sweat and other crap. It really feels like animals are being slaughtered here. We are all gray, lookalike, sad, with our heads lowered to look at the phone and pretending to laugh on some post by putting those stupid reactions. Public transport is a deathbed.»

«I’m not so sure about that.»

«Who would have imagined that...»

«I must disagree!»

«Here it comes...»

«OBJECTION YOUR HONOR!»

«What the hell dude! What are you doing? Are you crazy? Be quiet, everyone is looking at us»

«OK, ok, but listen to me. I don’t believe that what you said is completely true, public transport is not that bad. Don’t get me wrong, I can’t wait to get off this thing and breathe some healthy urban air full of smog. But, in the end, it’s not that bad.»

«Give me an example.»

«Well they help the environment. Instead of 50 people in 50 cars, we are all in the same vehicle. Also this bus run on methane, so, come on, it could be worse»

«Ok, ok the environment. But this does not solve the mass depression»

«What are you talking about, dude?! Yeah, of course no one get on a bus to have fun, but that’s not the point. Take a look around»

«Ok, don. What now?»

«Don’t be so superficial, look at the people that are here with us. When you look at them, you see sadness, a series of gray shapes, all alike, all similar. Like products made with the mold in a factory.»

«I couldn’t have said it better… but I guess that’s not the point/ Let’s hear, what is it you see?»

«Stories»

«Oh yes, “Stories”, obviously… Listen, there’s a good psychologist that works not far from the next stop. Let’s get off so I can introduce him to you.»

«Come on, I’m serious. Look around, every single one of them is a story. That old lady down there for example, she must have had lots of adventures. That silly flashy hat, , she probably wore that when she met her husband, that’s what made them fall in love with each other. And now that he’s not here anymore, she keeps wearing it, every day, to make sure that he, from up there, will recognize her even between thousands of people»

«Up there? Since when do you believe in the “After”?»

«What I believe is not important, but what people are saying is. Look at that little girl: immaculate school uniform, backpack on and hand clasped to her mother. School starts today, it is probably her first day. Can’t you see how happy she is? She’s looking around, can’t wait to get off. And her mother, she’s happy too, but if you pay more attention, you can see through her eyes that she’s a little bit worried: “What if she cries? If the other childs don’t treat her well? What if teachers don’t like her? What will I do without her all day?!”»

«What are you a future-teller now? You can read people's minds? Come on, let's try again with that guy, he doesn’t even know where we are, he’s staring into the void outside the window.»

«Maybe, or maybe not. Maybe that void is everything for him. Maybe he’s thinking about the person he loves, seeing their eye on the glass reflection, losing into them. Counting the minutes that separate him from them. Or maybe not, maybe he’s just an artist, thinking about the next painting, the next poetry or the note that he still has to play. A dreamer who searches for beauty in the world out there.»

«Yeah… I’m starting to worry about you… So then…. That guy! He’s sleeping on the back of the bus, what the heck has he to say now? I’m sure he hates this thing and he’s sleeping hoping this ride will soon end.»

«Maybe, or perhaps he’s just tired. A job that forces him to stay out all night, and now he’s finally going back home to his family. He decided to rest now so that he can be with them once at his destination. Even better, he’s probably already with them in his dream, hugging them.»

«Mmm... ok.... Let’s say that I appreciate your creativity, I really do, but don’t you think you’re exaggerating? In the end, what do you know about these people?»

«Nothing»

«See?»

«But that’s exactly the point!»

«I don’t get it»

«In short, what I’m trying to say is: every one of these people is a story. Every passenger that travels on a bus has something worthy to listen to. Public transport are like libraries with wheels only, instead of preserving old books with amazing fables, they’re full of lifes: simpler tales, maybe less spectacular, but authentic and unique. Only because you haven’t listened to that, does not mean that they do not have a story to tell.»

«Ok, you’re right, as always… Next is our stop, let’s get off»

«Let’s go, thanks for the ride 42, see you tomorrow. 7.37 a.m., don’t make me wait!»

«What are you doing bro, talking to a bus now?»

«Come on, come on, we’re late»