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The bus stop that wasnāt built
I stood at the corner where the new route was supposed to startāno sign, no shelter, just a faded outline in the asphalt. The city map still shows it as active. Iāve been walking past it every morning for six months, waiting for something that never arrives. Not even a construction barrier. Just silence. Today I brought a notebook and sat on the curb, sketching the shape of the absence. Itās not about the bus. Itās about how a place becomes real when someone keeps showing up, even if no one else sees it.
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