Bubble 

There’s a story about a guy who leaves with a one-way ticket and a couple shirts in a bag, not sure where he’ll sleep the night, who he’ll share his ideas with nor how he’s going to afford the rent, three meals a day and all the essentials to stay alive. But he’s got a plan to make something good, to rip off his routine and create something out of the risk he’s taking. I’m not good at telling stories and forgot the ending, but this is not the point. 

What I mean is that people complain about the world all the time, the weather giving them shivers, beers being too expensive or buses being late too often. But what if life was in your hands to model it? What if you realized you can choose where to move by shutting your eyes and pointing your finger on a map? What if you didn’t have to work three shifts in a row to pay the electricity bill? What if there’s something bigger just outside the comfort zone you built, the one allowing you to put the blame on your parents or your boss or the traffic? All you need to do is make this bubble explode and breathe some fresh air.
Now excuse me but I have to get off the bus before I loose the stop, again. 

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