bus stop – (en)

BUS STOP - DUGUTIGUI
There was a young woman whose path often crossed with mine at the bus stop while we were waiting. She was sweet and soft-spoken, and she never failed to greet me.
Sometimes we talked about the weather, when days were too bleak to speak about other things, but I never dared to ask her name, even though I longed for it. I sensed it would be a musical name and delicate blues will have it in their lyrics, and if ever my shyness would be cornered or curiosity subjugated me, I would hear an unusual name that would delight me. I knew she felt safe by my side, because she always came smiling where I stayed, and there she remained silent until the time to leave arrived. And I suspected part of her calm resided in my apparent indifference on conversations seized with queries. I was glad when she was close, and I liked to watch her when she seemed not to notice it. And I loved her stillness and her absent happiness that invited me to crave for her reserved friendship. And that is maybe why, because her quiet charm was haunting me, I guess I have never adjured her name. Such was her allure as she then was, that I could not bear that, because of me, she could one day change.
Girl about to take the bus - Bus Stop - Dugutigui
Time has passed, like a hand waving from a train, traveling the world over to find the beauty. Haunted by thoughts of a sun-drenched elsewhere, homesick for places I have never been, I traversed humanity far enough until I meet my own self, to then realize I carried prettiness within all the way, from a familiar ground.
Aware of life’s timelessness, back on yesterday, I returned this morning to the bus stop. They can take the music that I will never play, all the broken dreams, they can all take. Take them away but allow me the moment to have one more time my yesterday.
Minutes, unnoticed, may have passed, until a voice woke me up from my reverie, “Won’t you go in?” Confused I have shaken my head while the bus left down the street. A feeling, whose length cannot be measured, painfully crossed me, “You are still with me, even when you’re not by my side.” But now, like a reinterpretation of the man I was yesterday, all I can do is get through to another tomorrow, hoping to be less in love again. And I wish she never had to think about anything as much as I think about her.
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Bus stop – Dugutigui

Acerca de Dugutigui

In the “Diula” language in Mali, the term « dugutigui » (chief of the village), literally translated, means: «owner of the village»; «dugu» means village and «tigui», owner. Probably the term is the result of the contraction of «dugu kuntigui» (literally: chief of the village).
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36 respuestas a bus stop – (en)

  1. Kenn Shapiro dijo:

    Such a beautifully worded reverie. Wonderful.

  2. o. Such a great brushstroke–grey and rainbow all at once…

    • Dugutigui dijo:

      Thank you! As every brush stroke on the canvas, every dab of color introduced, the fine textures impressed in the paint —this accumulation of many small acts combines to shape a final work, so it is with life; each step, each deed, each brief choice builds gradually, day by day, to shape both character and destiny. I’m very happy you like this particular work!

  3. George Valah dijo:

    Damn! I know that feeling! Years after years I tried to forget and almost I did! But now …. Hmm! :-/

  4. What a beautiful story.

  5. emeraldwake dijo:

    amazing blog , regards

  6. Mélanie dijo:

    ah, nostalgie… quand tu nous tiens… 🙂 you’ve been inspired by real life agaon… 😉
    Have you watched “Bus Stop” with Marilyn Monroe(Chérie) & Don Murray(Beauregard-Bo)?… 🙂

    • Dugutigui dijo:

      I get sentimental from time to time 🙂
      The “Bus Stop” you mention is also known as “The Wrong Kind of Girl”, which is not the case in my post 🙂 In fact I also could have titled the post “The Wrong Kind of Man” 🙂
      Thanks!

  7. “…Homesick for places I’ve never been…” “Fernweh a German word = farsickness or an ache for the distance is the literal translation that fits myself. It is not wanderlust as Google translates. There is no English word. Wanderlust = Wandertrieb. Always I am lost in Fernweh. ” Bear http://bearspawprint.wordpress.com/2013/10/19/fernweh/ is a different treatment of a similar feeling … isolated from the rest of your poignant story.

  8. cricketmuse dijo:

    A thoughtful vignette–nicely presented

  9. S dot Love dijo:

    You have a wonderful way with words!

  10. hobo hippie dijo:

    Cool piece hobo hippie

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