How could I possibly describe such a seemingly monotonous task- which I undertake day come day go? Well, if there were ever something that jolts my every phobia, bringing to surface my complete consciousness, alas it is indeed a walk in the city.
People. Of all shapes and forms- a question I ask myself is simply: why should a face never before and shall never again encounter arouse in me such insecurity? Such a sense of disorientation, such that I cannot recall where I am coming from or where I am going to?
I guess I could blame it all on the marriage of colors, sounds, no 'noises', moving and ever-changing forms. No, not even that is a math to the one moment in time- multiplied by the population of heads around me- that split second when you notice someone looking at you, longer that natural, and you make the mistake of staring back.
They say the eyes are the window to the soul. I'm positive that such a man who had coined the wise phrase was, at least once on a walk in the city. The cold unfamiliar place, the hardly habitable unfriendly milieu. Of invariably unfriendly, misunderstanding people; who look at you once and have already unfairly placed down a judgment, a nasty remark which they may or may not out rightly reflect in their expression.
Is there ever a smile, heck, a smirk, in the ocean of man-eating, suit-wearing sharks? Has this cold desert ever known happiness? Courtesy? Respect? Kindness?
And you wonder why I am ever at a break-neck pace whenever I do, on any other day, take a dive into this psycho-emotional deep-end? Into this unpredictable jungle, of mask wearing thieves, of murderers, of hate-filled souls?
Moreover, you wonder: what is the root of this oh so unsociable perspective? Well that is a fact that will indeed conspicuously reveal itself on first sight of me, if we ever do gain the pleasure of stumbling into each other on 'a walk in the city'.
People. Of all shapes and forms- a question I ask myself is simply: why should a face never before and shall never again encounter arouse in me such insecurity? Such a sense of disorientation, such that I cannot recall where I am coming from or where I am going to?
I guess I could blame it all on the marriage of colors, sounds, no 'noises', moving and ever-changing forms. No, not even that is a math to the one moment in time- multiplied by the population of heads around me- that split second when you notice someone looking at you, longer that natural, and you make the mistake of staring back.
They say the eyes are the window to the soul. I'm positive that such a man who had coined the wise phrase was, at least once on a walk in the city. The cold unfamiliar place, the hardly habitable unfriendly milieu. Of invariably unfriendly, misunderstanding people; who look at you once and have already unfairly placed down a judgment, a nasty remark which they may or may not out rightly reflect in their expression.
Is there ever a smile, heck, a smirk, in the ocean of man-eating, suit-wearing sharks? Has this cold desert ever known happiness? Courtesy? Respect? Kindness?
And you wonder why I am ever at a break-neck pace whenever I do, on any other day, take a dive into this psycho-emotional deep-end? Into this unpredictable jungle, of mask wearing thieves, of murderers, of hate-filled souls?
Moreover, you wonder: what is the root of this oh so unsociable perspective? Well that is a fact that will indeed conspicuously reveal itself on first sight of me, if we ever do gain the pleasure of stumbling into each other on 'a walk in the city'.
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