I see the streets filled with people, all kinds of them. I watch them, each one of those dull and typical entities, as far as my vision permits me to. The tranquility of the scene portrays both it’s beauty and the ugly truth behind it.
In a well populated town as this where I live, I see people filling gaps everywhere. I see each one trying to replace the empty space the other leaves. I find it ordinary and yet somehow disturbing. On the worst of my moods, I see them as clueless, faceless, figures of crafted flesh and bones hurrying towards that place called ‘somewhere’. I see them, carrying heavier burdens than they can carry themselves, dragging it ruthlessly through the road just in search of one hand that is kind enough to help. But who would after all? Aren’t we all busy? Aren’t we all hurrying ourselves to get to that place called ‘nowhere’?
Sometimes I wish I could forbid myself from being too observant. For I am aware of the fact that though the eyes that let me see are mine, the vision laid upon by them has already been directed. On those kind of low mood days, I see faces everywhere. From the fairest to the darkest, from the thinnest to the fattest, from the tallest to the shortest, from little scars to those that are hard to cover. I see and then I subconsciously, choose what I see. I direct myself to be observant towards what my mind believes to be interesting. The ones who appear glamorous, the one I baselessly define as beautiful, the one that seems out of the crowd. And I boldly reject all the rest, dissolving them into one single white background. And that’s all I see. That’s all one sees, isn’t it? The superficiality of these humanoid objects sitting, walking, running or limping interestingly enough.
And finally on some delusional days, I see a clear day. I walk through the streets and I see familiar people. Not faceless or variously faced structures. Just humans who look just as me. I look at them into their eyes and they look at me. Into my eyes. They smile and I smile back with the same curiosity they share. They know me just as how I know them. Not as a flock of clueless entities or just mere flesh and bones covered with difference of fat and skin and designs of scars, not even as dwellers or walkers or runners or limpers. But as another human. Another observant soul. Another consciousness. As another completely unique world.