I adore buses- the tube is way too stressful and loud. I like to sit
back and relax, listen to music, check out the people around, play little games trying to guess details about their lives by simply examining their shoes, hairstyles or mobile phones.

Sometimes I’m inspired, images flashing before my eyes at the speed of light. When possible, it's wise to note them down before they move on to the next passenger. Writing makes me dizzy, but I choose to accept it as a prerequisite of the creative process. The bus keeps moving, and the mind continues its parallel journey…

What do cats think when they sit on trees, roofs and balconies, looking down? Are they contemplating suicide? Reflecting upon the utter futility of human actions? Killing time? Why do they love to sit in the sunshine, eyes closed in an expression of pure, lazy joy?
What do they see when they stare at us? And what do we truly
see when we stare back?

Why do certain individuals' eyes seem as if they’re hiding more depth than the rest? Why do they make you feel as if they’re x-raying your brain with a simple glance? How can other people know you all your life and still be unable to comprehend your inner logic?

What do embryos see when they’re dreaming? Where do dreams go when they end? Are they stored for future recollection? Gone forever? Could they perhaps be recycled, or even reused? So that, when we meet someone with whom we’ve unsuspectingly shared a dream, we experience this moment of revelation and spontaneous nostalgic understanding - which only lasts as long as a dream...