The BRT bus I entered from mile 12 to Fadeyi was at first a relief only to hear a male voice singing along with the old "ibile" song he was playing and my pent up frustration was getting at its edge. My only consolation was the yougurt I was sipping slowly and the fact that the music was not as loud as the one I had encountered earlier. Maryland was in a bit of confusion; a big coaster bus had an accident but no life was lost "it must have been his brakes" a passenger said. As I was writing I looked away savouring the environment. An old looking man who had sat earlier beside me had been peeping into what I was writing. He wore a white agbada and a green cap; his chubby face making me imagine how he would have looked like when he was much younger. His eyes were red and his breath smelt of alcohol "dey look what you are writing na" he said. I smiled and he dozed off only to wake up shouting at the driver who had innocently waited to carry a passenger
I saw different faces, some who were still dressed on their sunday attires; the dress confidently covering up whatever pain they may be going through. A lot of people with different dreams, ambitions, thoughts, probably working to achieve all of it and I for one could only imagine what they were.
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