This weekend saw us roadtripping to London to celebrate John's birthday.
As we sat on a Big Red Bus in the late hours of Saturday evening, returning home from a night full of food&film (or food&sleeping, as was the case with me), a man came onto the bus who inspired this blog post.
There was nothing particularly special or surprising about this man. But I couldn't help but notice how he smiled as he read a text on his phone, oblivious to the swarms of people around him and the motion of the swaying bus. I wondered at the words he was reading, maybe a friend telling a funny story, maybe a piece of wonderful news, maybe hearing from a loved one. Whatever it said, it was making this man look full of joy.
My eyes wandered around the bus, noticing little pockets of people's lives, scattered around for all to see:
An unlikely looking couple, the lady wore a white hat that had a little bug crawling over it, unbeknownst to her, the man had incredibly long hair. The South American couple in front of us, clearly talking with love in their voices. The friends beside me, some losing their consciousness to sleep, some engrossed in conversation.
Every person with a story to tell. I wondered at how, just by John uttering those few words to me two weeks ago has given me a brand new story to tell.
I love how each experience we have gives us a story to tell, and how some stories have people utterly captivated and caught up in the emotion with you, while others make people want to fall asleep. Regardless of the response of others, our lives are made up of stories and it's a wonderful thing to be surrounded by people who share the stories of their lives with you.
As we sat on a Big Red Bus in the late hours of Saturday evening, returning home from a night full of food&film (or food&sleeping, as was the case with me), a man came onto the bus who inspired this blog post.
There was nothing particularly special or surprising about this man. But I couldn't help but notice how he smiled as he read a text on his phone, oblivious to the swarms of people around him and the motion of the swaying bus. I wondered at the words he was reading, maybe a friend telling a funny story, maybe a piece of wonderful news, maybe hearing from a loved one. Whatever it said, it was making this man look full of joy.
My eyes wandered around the bus, noticing little pockets of people's lives, scattered around for all to see:
An unlikely looking couple, the lady wore a white hat that had a little bug crawling over it, unbeknownst to her, the man had incredibly long hair. The South American couple in front of us, clearly talking with love in their voices. The friends beside me, some losing their consciousness to sleep, some engrossed in conversation.
Every person with a story to tell. I wondered at how, just by John uttering those few words to me two weeks ago has given me a brand new story to tell.
I love how each experience we have gives us a story to tell, and how some stories have people utterly captivated and caught up in the emotion with you, while others make people want to fall asleep. Regardless of the response of others, our lives are made up of stories and it's a wonderful thing to be surrounded by people who share the stories of their lives with you.
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