Face Of The Stranger.

Through suspiscions and fabrication unseen, the brilliance of the stranger's mind will always shine through. These are the lives of the strangers around you. Admire their lives, and cherish your own.

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Seventeenth stranger of many: I once didn’t know a woman, who didn’t know a man, who didn’t know a young lady who probably didn’t know what she was about to write about. But then she did. And when she did, she spoke of insignificant truths that most find unsettling or foreboding. She spoke of being alone, and embracing the lonliness. This stranger is alone. The privelage so many take to be a curse, is blessed upon this man. He sits and wonders why he doesn’t swim in the lake, or take off his shoes and nap, or kiss the next woman over 50 that walks past, just because he can. He’ll laugh about it. He takes thought and solice in the warmth of silence, the tingling embrace of freedom, and the knowledge that his identity and fire does not change depending on who is sitting 20 inches to his right. This man, and that young woman, make me appreciate my alonedem. My adventure. Me. Thank you, strangers. “Society is afraid of alonedem. Like lonely hearts are wasting away in basements. Like people must have problems if after a while, no one is dating them. But lonely is a freedom that beathes lonely and weightless, and lonely is healing if you make it. You could stand, squashed by groups and mobs, or hold hands with your partner. Look both further and farther in the endless quest for company. But know what’s in your head, and by the time you translate your thoughts some essence of them may be lost. Or maybe it’s just kept. Perhaps in loving ones self… Perhaps in those sappy slogans from pre-school over into high school were tokens for holding the lonely at bay.” Thank you, Sir. Thank you, Ma’am. Lonely has never felt so warm. And I’ve never known strangers as I do now. I hope you feel the same. The words that flow from your lips to the lens, giving the vibrations of the fibers of the speakers of my crummy $400 PC shoot through my ears and dwell in my tears and fall into these keys and back into your lips to speak another day, and change another life.  These are the lives of the strangers around you. Admire their lives, and cherish your own. Again, thank you.

Seventeenth stranger of many: I once didn’t know a woman, who didn’t know a man, who didn’t know a young lady who probably didn’t know what she was about to write about. But then she did. And when she did, she spoke of insignificant truths that most find unsettling or foreboding. She spoke of being alone, and embracing the lonliness. This stranger is alone. The privelage so many take to be a curse, is blessed upon this man. He sits and wonders why he doesn’t swim in the lake, or take off his shoes and nap, or kiss the next woman over 50 that walks past, just because he can. He’ll laugh about it. He takes thought and solice in the warmth of silence, the tingling embrace of freedom, and the knowledge that his identity and fire does not change depending on who is sitting 20 inches to his right. This man, and that young woman, make me appreciate my alonedem. My adventure. Me. Thank you, strangers.

“Society is afraid of alonedem. Like lonely hearts are wasting away in basements. Like people must have problems if after a while, no one is dating them. But lonely is a freedom that beathes lonely and weightless, and lonely is healing if you make it. You could stand, squashed by groups and mobs, or hold hands with your partner. Look both further and farther in the endless quest for company. But know what’s in your head, and by the time you translate your thoughts some essence of them may be lost. Or maybe it’s just kept. Perhaps in loving ones self… Perhaps in those sappy slogans from pre-school over into high school were tokens for holding the lonely at bay.”

Thank you, Sir. Thank you, Ma’am. Lonely has never felt so warm. And I’ve never known strangers as I do now. I hope you feel the same. The words that flow from your lips to the lens, giving the vibrations of the fibers of the speakers of my crummy $400 PC shoot through my ears and dwell in my tears and fall into these keys and back into your lips to speak another day, and change another life.  These are the lives of the strangers around you. Admire their lives, and cherish your own.

Again, thank you.
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