A father is shouting at his son, telling him to be smarter, to come back with better marks, to throw away his youth. A motorcycle is driving by, uphill, judging by the horrible sound of the tired engine. A baby is crying and nobody seems to care, it cries and cries and cries, I can't imagine what the child is feeling right now. I take a deep breath and open my eyes.
It's the last day of the month. September just slipped through my hands. I had predicted a busy month, I thought I would be busy skating, busy writing and busy exploring the city. But it turned out to be a little different to what I had expected. Skateboarding was part of it, but not always in a participating way. Writing I did, but that too, not for personal projects.
Exploring the city, well, not exactly. I do have a new pattern in my week, which includes going to the south of the city everyday. But it hasn't much to do with travelling. I take the bus near my house, then the subway, another subway, and finally another bus. Commuting might be a better word, and the journey takes about an hour. Enough time to think about my predictions.
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