Personalities.
I watch people as they move slowly down the street. Completely unaware they disappear into the crowd. And yet I continue to stand there, unnoticed, and unremembered. The old woman, who is she? Where has she been, where is she from? And what has she seen with her two green eyes, do they reflect her past? She looks sad. Result of a difficult childhood? Or perhaps her present. Was she a pottery maker? Did she live through bombs and pain, did she know love.
I see people, I look into their eyes- the doors to their soul. I wonder, I question, I think.
Sitting beside a girl on the bus, what is her name? The opportunity of knowing a lifetime, the chance to know six billion individuals stories. She is so close, barely a few centimeters to the right, and yet a lifetime of unspoken things sits between us, mocking me, daring me.
Having the opportunity to know someone, and not doing so, is terrifying.
What if that person could have changed my life?
What if.
I got shivers reading that.
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