Music was playing so loudly into my ears and I just couldn’t understand how the whole world wasn’t hearing it too.
The bus ride was bumpy but the sun was warm against my cheek and every jolt of the road happened to be in time with the song. I wondered if maybe it was listening with me, or if maybe the whole world is made of infinite pieces of music and one was in sync with mine.
I was sat on the top deck, right at the front, overlooking the ground below. It was busy, bustling with multicoloured cars swerving in and out of each other. No doubt they all had different places to go. And no doubt some didn’t have one single clue where they were going. Not really. Not for sure.
But that’s ok, isn’t it? Not really being sure? Aren’t some of the best stories based on whims and “let’s find out!”’s? Because not even the first flight to the moon was planned out step-by-step. Sure, they had everything organised meticulously, but nothing could have prepared the astronauts for the moment of absolute breathlessness (almost literally) when they first stepped onto our glowing satellite.
And that was why I got lost, on the top deck of the bus through the sunshine. That was why I flew to my own little piece of the universe. Even with the bus route the same as it had been for years and years, it was always a little different.
The same old bus and a completely new page.
So there I was, listening to music that felt like I had written it myself, absorbing the sights of the city below, blurs of rushing colour. Lost in the moment, feeling on top of the world.
Although I couldn’t help but wonder if it would have felt a little more spectacular having a different destination….
Last stop: the moon.