Today I was at the Port Authority bus terminal. I was just walking around surveying the scene. It was unusually crowded but then I realized that it was rush hour. Ironically this is one of my favorite spots to hang out. Weird, but true.
I have written a poem and a short story about the place. Today I had another idea for a story. My tendency to go to my old haunts and take in the acoustics, to get a feel of the place at that particular moment. I'm sure many writers have done this. I just feel a sense of peace and contentment here. The travelers remind me of a time I was seeking and searching. I'm still a seeker.
I pay particular attention to folks who are from out of town. Some have that faraway look in their eyes. I wonder if they are seeking and searching for something. Are they seeking new pastures? Are they trying to reclaim something from their youth? All sorts of ideas fill my head. The terminal has changed over the years but the spirit of travel and adventure hasn't. Maybe my journey has another chapter.
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