I love public transport most of the time. Of course, there are days when the bus passes under one’s nose, days when the driver is unpleasant, days when it‘s crowded or delayed. Then there are days when one is right in time to catch it, after running a little. The short race has given one some energy. It’s cold outside and getting on the bus is good. One warms up quickly. The driver will greet you and there are no crowds. The journey is not too long: it would mean revising one’s course notes or powerpoint, marking copies, writing homework, or too short: one would not have time to dream, to note the beautiful light of the very cold day, the frost on the ground or to spy on the conversations.
One can not avoid noting a tear on the cheek of an old man, but perhaps that is only because of cold weather.