What is the name of the barista who makes you your morning almond milk chai latte?
What is the hair colour of the driver of the 7am express bus that conveniently deposits you outside your office every day? What nationality was the Uber driver that, having endured your drunken rambling, safely transported you home after a rampaging Friday night; and did you truly say thank you to any of them?
Molly Taylor's dramatic monologue, 'Love Letters To The Public Transport System', is a lyrical ode to gratitude, mindfulness and the interconnectedness of the cosmos. It is an acknowledgement that neither the good nor the bad times last, and that we must be deliberately appreciative during the former and resolutely hopeful during the latter.
Molly, the writer and performer of the work, interweaves seemingly divergent threads into a divinely planned thesis: that modern citizens, as they are ferried from stop to stop on public transport, with heads buried in smartphones, are simply ignoring all their blessings; their attention is piqued when they are woken from their slumber by an inconvenience or delay, at which time they will converge upon social media forums to loudly proclaim their dismay. This is an important work which lifts the veil from our conceited and self-obsessed eyes.
Molly's Liverpool lilt is rhythmic; seated on an isolated bus seat, she adopts more postures than a 60-minute yoga class, with each movement of her limb and torso designed to convey the emotion of any given moment. With the audience as her passengers, she concludes the journey at the most rapturous of locations.
Dear Molly, thank you driver; I am grateful for your compassion and your talent.
★★★★★
