The bus lurches to the right, gravel spitting from under its tires. She had been a fool for thinking this would be easy, a clean break. She looked out toward the darkened horizon as the greyhound lurched again. Even the weather seemed to be working against her.
The bus roared past. Red double decker. Exactly as in the movies, the post cards. Anytime when you thought of London, these buses where in the picture. As iconic as Big ben or Buckingham Palace. Yes the bus signalled, that I had made it. I was here. Where I’d always dreamed. When I got a job, with my first pay check, it would definitely be atop of one of those buses, seeing that new world that had been promised to me.
The bus was always a terrible place to be when I was in high school. I was bullied, I cried with heartbreak, I slept uncomfortably in the early morning, I impatiently waited to get home at the end of the day. I showed a boy my underwear once on the bus, just because he asked me to. That wasn’t a good reason, I don’t think.
The bus was never Hansol’s favorite place. It was always too loud, too crowded, too much. He could always put his earbuds in and tune everyone out. But Jisoo always made it better. The other boy would sit next to him and talk. He couldn’t remember when Jisoo started to notice him, but he never could imagine himself without it.
It’s been so long. I’ve decided to write this regardless of the word, which happens to be bus. I haven’t been on a bus inawhile either. I guess this is it, I am finally doing all the shit I have been saying i wanted or been trying to do for the last two years. I’m finally doing it and it is finally going to happen.
The bus was small, cramped, old. It smelled of chicken droppings and dirty humans. It was yellow once, a lifetime ago, but today the paint was peeling and the color weather-beaten. It was an old bus, but it would take me where I wanted and that’s all that mattered.
Not like the ones on TV, not yellow or full of children. The city bus, crossing the harbor bridge, full of people in business suits and formal wear, as you might expect from a vehicle traveling to a big city. Over the harbor bridge, with my friend Tina, heading to work experience at the Art Gallery.
It seemed like I was always waiting on the bus. The bus to work. The bus back home. The bus to go see Tyler. The bus bringing Tyler to come see me. It wasn’t the waiting that bothered me; it was the knowing that one day soon, the buses would stop coming.
Bus is a vehicle which carries people from one place to other and you must have a ticket to ride on bus. Bus is large in size and it carries lot of people. Bus have bus stands from where people can board their desired bus.
I write this as I wait for a bus that will arrive in 28 minutes. I like buses but I do not like waiting. So much of life is wasted waiting for buses and all the other things that have meaning to you that have yet to arrive.
As I stood still, the wind blew past my temples and I squinted hard.
The bus seems to be late or is it just me being early.
I wonder how my day would become.
The bus had barely arrived and already, it was packed full of humanity, and all the things they were bringing with them. I managed to get on and get a seat, and yet the bus continued to sit in the same spot, waiting for even more people and things to enter it – baskets of vegetables, a goat and cages of chickens. As we waited, with the engine rumbling and sounding like it was about to stall, vendors entered the bus, and somehow managed to pass through the packed aisles, holding up bags of sliced mango or a skewer of roasted beetles.
She ran to the bus stop, practically skidding into place just as the bus rounded the corner and pulled up. Yes. Great. She hopped on merrily. “Hi. Thank you.” The driver tried not to laugh at her as she lugged her bag into the seat behind him.
Right there at the back of the bus was the most uncommonly beautiful girl Sundeep had ever seen. She was perhaps a little crooked in stature but the way in which her deep hazel green eyes stared out at the world beyond the window was enough to take his breath away.
I stared out the window, the hustle and bustle of the city passed by me without noticing. I ignored the magnificent buildings and the swaying trees, the summer light that cast its warm yellow glow, the laughing children and hurrying people.
No, I ignored it all for I couldn’t keep you out of my mind.
Even an inanimate object that transports people send my mind reeling to the moments I have of you. How I imagine we’d meet at the bus stop and get to talking, how my stories would hopefully amuse you, how I would be fortunate enough to see the spark ignite in your eyes when you laugh. How I imagine us sharing a smoke, the night coating us in its enigmatic poetry and we will talk quietly, as men commonly do in the night. And I’d stare upon your beauty as though my eyes have been opened for the first time, my heart would soar at the sound of your melodic chuckle, my mind would yearn to know yours better.
I take the bus everyday. I take it to get to school and also back home. The bus I take is always busy and full of people, from all over the place. I don’t have a car so I take the bus.
i remember riding the bus as an elementary school student. I remember tony grosso stuck up for me when a bunch of kids were picking on me. I remember being kind of stunned that someone would help me. Would stick up for me. His sister, tina grosso, ate glue and probably her boogers and was generally anti-social and kinda weird; Rat’s nest hair.
Sitting on the bus at seven am, I watched the wet sky from the window above my head. An old man had soaked his shorts while screaming on a cellphone that probably didn’t have someone talking on the other end. Two young girls were quietly sitting across the aisle from me, sharing a small bag of chocolate candies, carefully selecting their favorite colors and meting out quantities as if they were an assembly line. And their mother sat in front of them, knitting, singing a song in Spanish under her breath as if trying to soothe her own mind with a lullaby.
the bus stop is full. everybody wants in the bus. it is very crowdy. everybody is sweating. but I got in with no ticket. and the ticket costs very much and I am happy. i can now go from school back home without my feet hurting. even if i have to stay ten minutes crowded in the bus.
The bus lurches to the right, gravel spitting from under its tires. She had been a fool for thinking this would be easy, a clean break. She looked out toward the darkened horizon as the greyhound lurched again. Even the weather seemed to be working against her.
The bus roared past. Red double decker. Exactly as in the movies, the post cards. Anytime when you thought of London, these buses where in the picture. As iconic as Big ben or Buckingham Palace. Yes the bus signalled, that I had made it. I was here. Where I’d always dreamed. When I got a job, with my first pay check, it would definitely be atop of one of those buses, seeing that new world that had been promised to me.
The bus was always a terrible place to be when I was in high school. I was bullied, I cried with heartbreak, I slept uncomfortably in the early morning, I impatiently waited to get home at the end of the day. I showed a boy my underwear once on the bus, just because he asked me to. That wasn’t a good reason, I don’t think.
The bus was never Hansol’s favorite place. It was always too loud, too crowded, too much. He could always put his earbuds in and tune everyone out. But Jisoo always made it better. The other boy would sit next to him and talk. He couldn’t remember when Jisoo started to notice him, but he never could imagine himself without it.
why is it the bus entry again?
can I have a busket of flowers?
bus bus bus vroom.
It’s been so long. I’ve decided to write this regardless of the word, which happens to be bus. I haven’t been on a bus inawhile either. I guess this is it, I am finally doing all the shit I have been saying i wanted or been trying to do for the last two years. I’m finally doing it and it is finally going to happen.
The bus was small, cramped, old. It smelled of chicken droppings and dirty humans. It was yellow once, a lifetime ago, but today the paint was peeling and the color weather-beaten. It was an old bus, but it would take me where I wanted and that’s all that mattered.
Is a large veichal that helps people get from one place to another place. It uses gas, charges people to ride it and is large.
I don’t like ride the bus, why it is too full.
I’m go the bus
I do not like to ride a bus
The bus is blue
I go to the house of bus, in my city is very terrible the bus.
Not like the ones on TV, not yellow or full of children. The city bus, crossing the harbor bridge, full of people in business suits and formal wear, as you might expect from a vehicle traveling to a big city. Over the harbor bridge, with my friend Tina, heading to work experience at the Art Gallery.
It seemed like I was always waiting on the bus. The bus to work. The bus back home. The bus to go see Tyler. The bus bringing Tyler to come see me. It wasn’t the waiting that bothered me; it was the knowing that one day soon, the buses would stop coming.
taking a bus to school listening to highway to hell
god how i hate the places it takes me to
except dance class
dance class rocks
Bus is a vehicle which carries people from one place to other and you must have a ticket to ride on bus. Bus is large in size and it carries lot of people. Bus have bus stands from where people can board their desired bus.
I write this as I wait for a bus that will arrive in 28 minutes. I like buses but I do not like waiting. So much of life is wasted waiting for buses and all the other things that have meaning to you that have yet to arrive.
As I stood still, the wind blew past my temples and I squinted hard.
The bus seems to be late or is it just me being early.
I wonder how my day would become.
The bus had barely arrived and already, it was packed full of humanity, and all the things they were bringing with them. I managed to get on and get a seat, and yet the bus continued to sit in the same spot, waiting for even more people and things to enter it – baskets of vegetables, a goat and cages of chickens. As we waited, with the engine rumbling and sounding like it was about to stall, vendors entered the bus, and somehow managed to pass through the packed aisles, holding up bags of sliced mango or a skewer of roasted beetles.
She ran to the bus stop, practically skidding into place just as the bus rounded the corner and pulled up. Yes. Great. She hopped on merrily. “Hi. Thank you.” The driver tried not to laugh at her as she lugged her bag into the seat behind him.
i must take a long walk to arrive to the company’s bus which is tiring
Vehículo para transportar grandes cantidades de personas
Right there at the back of the bus was the most uncommonly beautiful girl Sundeep had ever seen. She was perhaps a little crooked in stature but the way in which her deep hazel green eyes stared out at the world beyond the window was enough to take his breath away.
I stared out the window, the hustle and bustle of the city passed by me without noticing. I ignored the magnificent buildings and the swaying trees, the summer light that cast its warm yellow glow, the laughing children and hurrying people.
No, I ignored it all for I couldn’t keep you out of my mind.
Even an inanimate object that transports people send my mind reeling to the moments I have of you. How I imagine we’d meet at the bus stop and get to talking, how my stories would hopefully amuse you, how I would be fortunate enough to see the spark ignite in your eyes when you laugh. How I imagine us sharing a smoke, the night coating us in its enigmatic poetry and we will talk quietly, as men commonly do in the night. And I’d stare upon your beauty as though my eyes have been opened for the first time, my heart would soar at the sound of your melodic chuckle, my mind would yearn to know yours better.
This insanity has to be stopped.
I take the bus everyday. I take it to get to school and also back home. The bus I take is always busy and full of people, from all over the place. I don’t have a car so I take the bus.
i remember riding the bus as an elementary school student. I remember tony grosso stuck up for me when a bunch of kids were picking on me. I remember being kind of stunned that someone would help me. Would stick up for me. His sister, tina grosso, ate glue and probably her boogers and was generally anti-social and kinda weird; Rat’s nest hair.
Sitting on the bus at seven am, I watched the wet sky from the window above my head. An old man had soaked his shorts while screaming on a cellphone that probably didn’t have someone talking on the other end. Two young girls were quietly sitting across the aisle from me, sharing a small bag of chocolate candies, carefully selecting their favorite colors and meting out quantities as if they were an assembly line. And their mother sat in front of them, knitting, singing a song in Spanish under her breath as if trying to soothe her own mind with a lullaby.
the bus stop is full. everybody wants in the bus. it is very crowdy. everybody is sweating. but I got in with no ticket. and the ticket costs very much and I am happy. i can now go from school back home without my feet hurting. even if i have to stay ten minutes crowded in the bus.