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A bus terminal is a perfect place to blog. There is never a shortage of subjects: a disheveled man asking for money (is he really on his way to rehab and needs the money to get there?); dolled up young women going somewhere (a girls’ weekend away?); silent men reading newspapers; the digitally connected, headphones on, tweeting, blogging, updating their status… Each has a story, and each story keeps changing, depending on whether they are talking to their friends, their bosses, or themselves.

No book with me this time, by a conscious decision to take in my commute. The green line, true to form, speeds up through some stops on Comm Ave and then stands by in Kenmore. The red line, swift and clean this hour of the morning. South station–it always leaves me with a hint of nostalgia. I uses to take trains all the time, growing up, and I still miss it. Or maybe I just miss home.

The bus honks thrice as we pull out of the bay. I hope there is not much traffic, though it doesn’t really matter too much. We will get there eventually.

And then, the boat.

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