Whatever Works

Visions from their artistic minds escape my memory as the book closes for the last time and I raise my head to the sky.

The cityscape runs parallal to my journey, raindrops perforate the narrow view of my window screen. It shifts to a blur as the bus picks up speed, leaving my thoughts behind and forgotten.

I've always admired those who can draw, them with their uncanny ability to take whatever lies in their head and present it to the rest of us.

So many of us have these thoughts, grand and majestic; full of vigor and perfection; a paradise among the many fleeting moments of our short existences.

But artists, these are the people who can let you see, truly, the world as they want to see it - uncensored and without the filter other opinions.

The road fills with cars, and my bus draws to a halt. I do not move, but the smaller vehicles continue on.

I can only watch, and follow in their trail eventually, like a wordsmith reading a comic book.