Read this post by Pragya Thakur. It’s beautiful.

And today, as I settled into my regular seat in the bus, right behind the driver, the first seat by the window, adjusted the seat to my level of comfort, turned on the overhead light and smoothed my clothes to minimize a wrinkly effect upon descent, I realized that this was my alternate bliss. I have come to love this snatched hour in the morning when I can be myself, by myself. I can read, snooze, dream, reminisce, think. It is the most uncluttered hour of my day. On certain days, when I am reading something that keeps sleep at bay, something so engrossing that it forces me to think and forms, or uncovers, new tracks in my mind, I feel no qualms about giving up on the cherished idyllic image of a glorious, sunny, breakfasting ideal.