While Driving.

I hate driving! Actually, I don’t mind it, I just hate driving in this city. It’s very unpleasant.

It’s chaotic, but I love to play my music loud and dance in my car while trying not to die or hurt someone’s family member. In traffic or at stoplights, I see different kinds of cars and I dream.

Now I am convinced that I spend a lot of time in my head, talking to myself, making up scenarios. Someone in front of me is driving a beat-up Toyota Camry, and I imagine their story. I assume they are young, just starting their life, maybe. Probably had to save every penny to buy that car. Or they are wealthy but have a strange attachment to some old rickety car.

Someone with a G-Wagon passes by, and I think they must have worked hard to earn that wagon (at which point I say a little prayer, asking God to let me experience such a lovely car at some point in my life). Or I think they come from money, so getting a G-Wagon was never a problem. Or maybe they are just thieves.

I continue doing this until I reach my destination. When I park, I stop and think for a moment about how we all have a story, a story that continues until the day we die. I find that very strange.