On the surface.

On the bus there is a buzz, the echo of a song pulsing through headphones.
I stare outside the window, scenary rushes past me, and i am fascinated at how many shades of green there are.
In the city, tall skyscrapers cut into the sky there is no rough, jagged outlinings.
No - the picture is perfect - almost like a painting, the brush marks are flawless.
The  the sky is like water, it slips into place too quick for us human eyes to see.
The atmosphere is tense, maybe pleasant, staccato, or anxious....I'm not sure...I haven't yet decided.
Though all the people are sitting with their heads down, listening to music, or closing their eyes.
I am cross examining them.
On my left, a row down - diagonally, is a girl who holds in her lap uni books.
She rests her head on the window. Her eyelids are closed, but flutter vivdly with the bumps, i wonder if she is dreaming, or if she sleeps to pass the time, or maybe she is highly academic, demands nothing but the best, studies whenever she can, and only rests on the bus.
She looks peaceful.
In front of me is a girl standing up.
Maybe 16, or 17 who wear torn jeans and a black t-shirt.
 She taps her feet, drums her fingers and at every stop stares at her watch.
She has eyes, that are crystals, that are the colour of figi's blue ocean, the blue in a peacocks tail, a blue that comes in the perfect biro, a blue that somehow is electic.
I watch her, as the bus mocks her, stopping with each persons hail, and i can feel the tension thick as a rope in her, her knee starts to twist a little....her fingers drum faster.
Stacato.
In my peripheral vision, is a boy that sits lonely.
He seems vague, with a vulnerablity that makes he seem full with eager.
The girl he likes is the anxious one, with electric eyes.
He looks in her direction, from time to time...
Quickly, quietened, embarrased when she catches his gaze.
Fear wraps around him and the sting of her eyes, makes him look away...but when she is not looking, when is looking ahead to see how far they are until her destination.
I watch the way, he head lifts a little to admire her beauty, and love her quirkly movements.
He is shy. Too shy. Almost invisible.
They all sit, on a simple bus the rhythm of wheels is the tempo to their beat.
A sudden stop, and it makes them wake, a snap out of their trance of hypnotism.
On the bus, i have no music so instead i watch the people, all complex with personalites and dimension.
I look outside, at the pure bliss of nature, and examine the people, how they appear on the surface.