The bus drove away, my final stop will be Batislava. The advantage of going away by bus is that we intensely live the departure: we pass along every familiar landscape, then we don't know everything by heart, and at the end we don't discern anymore the names, regions nor the country.

I passed through this city in the Est of France where I was some months ago. And what seems to have occured an eternity ago comes back to me in one second: that's also the opportunity to make time travels.
Then, there are the characters of the bus, and with the trip starts a sociological study for 24 hours. Two african people are talking behind me. I don't know their language but there are many french words in it. I'm deducing that those words don't exist in their language, and express specific things from life in France, and based on this principle it's very interesting to pay attention to their discussion. The word "clochard" (homeless) for example, doesn't exist in their language...
I always wonder why the other travelers are on the bus, what they're going to do, why in those countries. Some of them seem to carry their whole llife, some others didn't bring anything.
The fact is I don't really like to spend 24 hours in a bus, but I appreciate to be able to dive into a book, or listen to music with attention. Some people spend  all this time staring at the window, I guess they are great thinkers, otherwise they must find the journey very long!

In the bus there are Polish, Slovak, French, African, Hungarian people. With my neighbor, a lovely hungarian women, I start to talk a language that we can only practice while travelling: the essential exchange, the expression of as many things as possible with a minimum of words. This language is spoken between people who don't have a common language to communicate, yes, it's possible. The travel really started.
I look out the window, I don't recognize nothing anymore, I smile.