41

Translation Notice

This article is a work of fiction originally written in Italian. It has been automatically translated to English using an AI tool. The rhythmic and narrative qualities may differ from the original.

There's too much bus changing. That's for sure. I barely remember the passage through 39 and 40; yet the bus I got off from had, clearly visible, the luminous 41 above the front windshield. Right there, just above the driver's transparent face. What a jerk. Yes, I shouldn't be so bitter and vulgar. I know, I'm sorry. It's just that it was an absurd journey, on winding roads at high speed. I struggled to hold on for almost the entire trip. To be honest, I also fell at one point, but a hand I struggled to recognize picked me up almost immediately. It saved me from being crushed under the soles of the crowd that grew at every stop. Not to mention the travel companions. Holy shit, I felt like Baricco in the Barnum circus, few acrobats and many freak show attractions. Arid, greedy faces polished to a shine, that with their gaze seem to pull your soul out of your guts like Harry Potter's dementors. Madness. You know that Instagram account with subway photos? What's it called... Subway creatures I think. A journey like endlessly scrolling through that profile's feed. A nightmare.

And then the silence, deafening, when everyone stopped making sounds and I was terrified that I would never again hear the voice of those I love as I had heard it just a moment before. And the crying. Mine and others'. And the feeling of being lost, even though I'm not the one driving this fucking bus.

And then the light. I saw the theater signs. They were showing "A Christmas Carol." How I love that story. I've never seen the stage play. I pulled the emergency brake and jumped off to see it. Now I'm here, in the cold on this sidewalk and, I realize, in all these bus rides I had never stopped to watch a theater show. How I enjoyed it. Oh, how I enjoyed it!

And watching those actors, ready to improvise whatever happens, I understood that improvisation is precisely the necessary skill in life. So I do it, I take the plunge and improvise; chasing my dreams.

And even if I should crash, maybe it will still have been worth it. After all, it's the journey that matters.

Or not?