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“Taxi Driver” There’s a strange kind of liberation in being just a taxi driver— the freedom tucked inside that word: just. Because you’re just a driver, no one truly sees you. Yet you see it all— the absurdities, the shallows, the beauty, sorrow, joy, heartbreak—passengers unknowingly exposed. They grant you a diluted respect, sometimes half-fake, sometimes not at all— because you’re just a taxi driver. But they leave you be. No one's scheming to steal your seat. They want you in that seat. They ride with you because, for now, it’s a seat they don’t desire. Still, like all fleeting liberations, this too carries disappointment— a bittersweet sting. You realize the only reason they leave you alone is because you've escaped into a seat they never wanted in the first place. And that hurts.” — Louis Yako