A bus to wherever.

Wherever destination i am required to be i seem to always take the slowest most comfortable form of transportation,  so far i consider the bus to do the perfect job. I always enjoy a long ride by the window in a well matressed seat and a good air conditioning, i pay the same fare as everybody else but i want the best seat in the house ––or in the bus.  Without any seatmate if it is not too much to ask.  I take my time on every journey,  i don't need a quick transportation if it involves butt bumping, crowd wrestling or race running.  I am oblivious to the fact i won't arrive in time for my appointment,  but i shrug it off.  Due to all the shrugging off i am a lousy,  unpunctual bloke to the eyes of my friends and acquaintances.  I am always the one to arrive last they have to allot minutes and more to wait for me.  I have the reason for coming last scripted up, Recited it many times and seems to still be of effect.   I see enough to know the importance of time for all the people running everywhere.  I see too much of it,  everyone is infact in a rush most of the time ––most of thier own time. They chase every ticking second one after another,  it becomes endless.  I can tell it matters to them,  so i can't tell i don't want to accept and live by the concept of time more so follow it.  No explanation can clear the forordained argument that's already nailed down in thier preconditioned minds. I don't blame them but surely they can blame me. A lost cause anyway.
But i want to see every people, trees,  cars,  buildings,  everything inanimate ––or not pass by me.  A usual scenery for an everyday ride to somewhere.  Just for a 10 maybe 15 minutes flashing of  usual mundane scenery of an everyday route is what i am after,  epecially in the morning. With the coldness from the early-morning hour still left, the sun about to rise in the pale blue sky vaguely painting the clouds with orange, a number of people just about starting up a crowd, and the almost emptiness of the streets that are usually overpopulated.  Nothing is remarkable in the scenery and the journey.  The slow pace and the lightness of the mood is what is pleasurable. There is stillness and awareness i am able to identify with every journey i take time with. Inhale,  hold, exhale.  I am in a journey,  i am moving with speed and i am not even touching the ground or provides the effort for placement acceleration.  I am just sitting back and feeling the space of movement.  Passenger perks. I find the pleasure in acceleration, in the jolt of forward movement i can watch objects pass by in a blur on my peripheral vision, it is the small world in all its ordinary scenes.  They are tiny indeed, but is invisibly connected to one another by chance. And as much as i have wondered i wonder all the more how these tiny scenes unworthy of enough attention fit altogether to create the bigger ones. They just do maybe. It slipped me maybe the whole commute might be just a distraction from the purpose of the appointment in the back of my mind, or it might have been the whole reason for the appointment.  For some given time i find that i look forward to a very long enduring ride even when there is no point to the destination. I always take my time nonetheless it is habitual.  I will never chase time in all it's glory.  This brain have been conditioned to quantify each courses to fit every ticking time of the day with activities. I am aware.  But the pleasures of slow pace is where i am putting my foot into.  I can see,  hear,  feel more. Such time wasted well spent.  Once i arrive at the destination is a different story all together, i am reminded of why the commutation.  I almost forget. But it was worth the nettled discourse after.