Cascades of hair are motionless to the music. It is music to look inside. I barely move. That's some fucking great piano playing.
My feet do not touch the sand. They don't feel much like they are touching the sidewalk, either. Men and women are really boys and girls at their deceiving hearts, in this beautiful afternoon. They make my eyes feel good good good. Ipanema has never looked this beautiful. I do not love anyone but myself right now, and I'm loved in return, so I'm the happiest man alive.
I can't help but adore my fellow passengers in this crappy old bus. I am sure they are all capable of horrific violence, given the right setting but, right now, they're just a bunch of tired people coming back from day jobs, just like me. We are all moving into what we believe is a much brighter future, but it does not show that easy when you look at our faces. Even in spite of ourselves, we simply know it.
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