By: Jamil E. Mabandis
Dear Busmate of That Rainy Bus Ride,
You most likely do not remember me but I remember that you sat in silence with your dripping umbrella at your feet. It feels weirdly freeing to write to you because you have no idea about me, and I don't risk caring what you would think if my words sound strange or rough. With my family and friends, I'm always cautious weighing each sentence fearing misunderstanding. But with you, a stranger, I can be reckless with honesty and that recklessness makes writing come to life. It allows me to craft a version of myself that's not constrained by what people think I should be. I think that's why Pico Iyer's notion works, in writing to strangers, we find ourselves in a zone where imagination and reality can blend without inhibition. And sometimes, it is that freedom which creativity truly requires.
Yours briefly,
The individual you never actually talked to