At The Bus Stop

Niels Schneider as Nicolas in  Les Amours Imaginaires (2010), a film by Xavier Dolan

Sitting down alone at the bus stop right when the day meets the night is probably my favorite thing in the world.
Well, one of my favorite things. It comes after good books and good movies.
And a cup of hot earl grey tea.

So I'm writing this when I sit down alone at the bus stop, when it's bedtime for the day. People looked like they're in hurry. It's almost dark, they can't wait to reach home. To meet their wife and children. Or maybe to meet a hot bath. I enjoy this kind of peace in the middle of the crowds.
I can hear a piece of soothing piano recital in my mind, instead of vehicles’ roar and honks.
Everything feels like a slow motion in 4:3 ratio as if the busy road is an old movie, but instead of black and white, everything is in dreamy tone.

Now you wonder why did I see such a hectic yet poetic scenery in such a narrow view. Well, I guess I’m too busy looking at this small window across the street. Behind the window there is a small room, with dim light and lots of smoke. The room seems gentle, warm, and inviting. But it’s not the room that allured me deeply. It’s someone who sat just behind the window. This someone made everything around him went blurry.

This someone is beautiful. He was carved perfectly and moves graciously. If only I held a camera right now, I will click the shutter with his every motion. If only I held a brush with countless colors of paints, I will paint him in accurate details. But even if I had those, I’d never deliver his beauty correctly. That is why right now, as the bench I am sitting on getting colder and the sky getting darker, I capture him with words. 

His eyes are the color of a cup of hot dark chocolate in one night in autumn, and they shine. Oh they shine brightly as if the fairies sprinkled stardust in his eyes. his skin is golden as hazelnut, reminded me of a warm summer night. He got long locks, dark as ebony, twisting gently as if they were shrubs, framing his sculpturesque facial features perfectly. 

He is a prince from far away. He is Adonis in disguise. 

Then all of the sudden there came a memory. Old recollection that I put somewhere in my frozen heart, burst to the surface. There is something about him that feels familiar. 
It involves dark wave music and light rain.
It made me think of ironic poems and laughter in a small crowd. 
But I don’t know what it is. I don’t know whether I know him or not.
I don’t know if sitting here alone at the bus stop is a great idea at all. I’m cursing myself right now, regretting the decision to not take the first bus I saw and going home. But at the same time, I can hear myself uttering gratitude for my decision. To have an opportunity to witness the most precious scenery. To once again (or for the first time) looking at such a beautiful creature,

I feel like I wanna cry right now. I want to scream at him asking questions. Questions I don’t know how to say, because I don’t know what to ask. I want him to look at me and recognize pain in those mesmerizing eyes. The pain he tried to cover all this time. From the world. From me.

But who is he, after all? Is he a stranger or a friend? Or a friend that became a stranger? 
My mind is trying to remember but I don’t want to remember. I’m trying to remember but I forgot a long time a go. 

I’m fighting with my own thoughts as he looked down from the window, laughing his head off like a little kid. His sight met mine. 

I don’t know what is he thinking. I don’t know if I fell in love for the first time or all over again.

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