After a long day of busy work, it’s always nice to finally get to sit down and rest (both physically and mentally) on the ride back home. As my mom slowly drives through the city, my eyes wander to the corners of the streets, searching for something to get my imagination going, which does not take much. In fact, it’s usually the least interesting things that give rise to my imaginary stories. For instance, just a couple days ago, I came across a teenage girl, who talked on her phone as she stood at the bus stop, and my train of thought went something like this:
-She is on the phone with her dad, asking for directions to Stonestown.
-Her dad had originally offered to drive her, but in order to prove that she is a big girl, she insisted on taking the bus on her own.
-Now, her dad is yelling at her. “See, wouldn’t it have been so much better if I had driven you?! Why don’t kids nowadays just listen to their parents?”
-The girl reluctantly puts up with the yelling and finally hangs up.
-Suddenly, a car pulls up, and in there is a semi-friend of hers who offers her a ride.
-At first, she refuses, but upon thinking about her father’s scolding, she accepts.
-That semi-friend of hers, however, was a little bit tipsy…
It was something like that. After all, it’s truly not too important what I actually think of. What matters is simply being able to leave behind the stress of daily life and escape in my own imagination, even if it’s just for a short while.
