Memory
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I love the smell of damp earth, the warm seaside weather in the
evening, and the sounds of thunder in the distance.

The bus rocks softly while rolling towards its destination.

The windows have started to fog. The driver turns on the defrost.
The air fills instantly of that good, old smell of mushy, musty,
air conditioner processed... air.

The rain has left a wet curtain of blurriness on the bus windows
and the street lighting doesn't help much so, for the time being,
I can only guess where I am: One left, two rights, long straight
road, blurry traffic light and one left...

I'm there...