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Reflections: Perspective

by Nicolas Verhoeven

Created on: December 12, 2008

Spektating till the Bus
The rain poured down upon the street a little distance ahead of me as I watched drop after drop of rapidly moving liquid smash one by one into a puddle just at the foot of the steps I was standing on. I found myself gazing at the rippling insect proportional tide as it reacted faintly to each incoming bomb of ever avoided rain. I would gladly have listened on to the rain's soothing break of water on ground for quite a while longer, had it not been for my mental nature to focus back in when songs changed on my currently playing mp3 device. The song list moved from one raucous song to the melodic phenomenon displayed throughout every note of miss Regina Spektor's unique ballad like caress. I allowed myself one more period of entrancement as I let the musical gallop of Spektor's soothingly rising, and sharply falling voice fill my head. In coordinated unison, I looked upon the beautiful gray sky once more and allowed my emotional chemistry to make sense of my surroundings through the addictive nature of musical influence upon one's deepest emotions and in turn the rising significance of the smallest sight. My gaze fell upon the slowly moving traffic, responding one by one to electronically driven coordinators, which took it's unbiased time to represent all that stood planted on the transit way. Unseen impatience arose from every vehicle until made visible in technique and secondary action of rapidity and abnormally high revved engines. The turning of tires, unphazed by the cool, slippery world around, allowed for the perspectively immense machinery in the make up of the vehicle to distance itself from it's previously stopped location. As cars quickened their pace, I saw, coming toward me, the awaited buses on their tedious journey from point A to point B. I was soon after tapped on the arm by my accompanying friend. I turned to face him and I found him grinning stupidly as he often did when he was in the mood to "horse around" as my papa might say. He hid himself behind a nearby white pillar in a playful fashion with his grin still plastered on his face. I returned a half hearted grin, and returned my far off stare. My eyes reached out to the few trees rising from the ground, opposite the road, and my eyes glanced over their dark green foliage and watched as the gloss like leaves rustled, and shook as my dog does when he feels uncomfortably wet. Chase, my silly companion, walked his way into my line of sight, breaking my view and reminding me of the arriving transportation. I began my own trek toward the newly opened doors of a mixed colored bus, my mind still calm and complacent, absorbed in self revelry and barely aware of the jabbing, distracting social conversation exchanges between couples all about me. My mind once more drifted back in with the end of miss Spektor's eloquent heard beauty and broke the seal of the bypass encouraged life, the non-appreciating rush of living continues until my next mindful take over.

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