The sun is barely a sliver smeared on the once inky sky yet my eyes are already morphing into lead. Trust me to read till the early morning hours the night before I have an exam. My body jolts in my seat as the bus rumbles over the ever expanding pot hole on Elm Street. I hear the rickety old engine strain as it grunts, crackles and hisses down the road. Unfazed by these now familiar sounds my body relaxes as I press my cheek to dust caked glass. Gentle humming of the vibrating vehicle relaxes me whilst I stare at the scenery as it leap frogs past.
My mind is lulled into a further state of calm by the picturesque parade of green fields dotted with fluffy tuffs of sheep. The hypnotic effect of the naturalistic countryside had almost lulled my already weary body to sleep when my vision is engulfed with a looming mass of the gaping wound that was the open cut mine. Smudgy yellow machines circled around the blackened earth scooping up the toxic coal like a magpie swipes a coin. Beyond this wreckage of a once pristine wood the cooling towers of the power plant lurks on a hilltop. Its jaws of concreate pierce the sky, plumes of hazy smoke spew out of its mouth, more than any cigarette could ever make.
Any feeling of peace I may have felt before has evaporated and I’m wide awake. It takes me a moment to realize that as my gaze has traced the
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My fingers flurry over my things as I hurry of the bus. It’s a delicate balance as skim through my cue cards whilst keeping my place marked in my book and not spilling my coffee. Hence it comes to no surprise when my book releases from the crock of my and lands on the pavement with a pwank. A sigh hisses through my teeth as I try to squat and pick up the book. Before I can grip the cover foreign fingers slide over the spine. A sweet earthy scent stirs my nostrils that I can’t place. It kind of reminds me of pine needles but it’s not quite that. As if it was the echo of an environment beyond my