The people waiting for the bus rubbed their hands together in the cold. I looked down at the dirt, clutching the strap of my bag. I was trying to not make eye contact with anyone. It was a countryside village where only two buses stopped per day. From a distance, I saw the first bus approaching. I boarded the bus behind everyone else. I didn’t look back. When I was passionate about something, when I barely had something in my grasp, when I had nothing left but things to escape- I had conditions. I wasn’t to look back. The moment I looked back the efforts I’d made until now became little more than seafoam. Looking back, that was a kind of suspicion, a kind of lingering attachment, and a kind of fear. Only when I had overcome these things could I finally escape. The bus started off. I had no plans. I had nothing I was passionate about, nothing in my group, no particular reason to escape. “I have to survive.” »