Windows of the Night Bus

The bus is nearly empty at 11 p.m. City lights streak across the windows, slicing the urban landscape into thin strips—like flipping through a book too fast to read.

People in the car

A young person holding a cardboard box sits in the front row; the box is wrapped with multiple layers of tape. Two middle-aged individuals are chatting quietly in the center, speaking slowly as if discussing something that isn't urgent.

The window seat in the last row is always the most popular because you can lean against the glass.

Site

The night bus stops at some stations you might not notice during the day:

• A closed shopping mall with a clearance sale poster on the roll-up door.
• A street without streetlights, illuminated only by the bus's own lights.
• From the bridge, distant buildings are visible; fewer than one in ten windows is lit.

Each time the bus stops, the door opens and closes, letting in a small draft of cold air.

About Going Home

I often ask myself a meaningless question while riding in the car: Are all these people heading home?

A few times, I noticed people getting off before the final stop and walking into a very dark alley. I didn't know where it led, and I was too shy to look closely.

There are many routes in the city we'll never know.

The driver said "Take care" as I got out. I thanked him and walked home down the empty sidewalk, with streetlights following me one by one.