We cross paths in a familiar hallway. The velocity of my flesh and bones stirs up a breeze which brushes gently against you, as yours does to me. I can smell your Marlboros and sickening fabric softener, both of which make me wince. Our eyes may have met, or perhaps they did not. Was I looking cowardly down at my shoes, or pretending to notice something out the window? Just for a brief moment, in the spiritual plane, our colored vibrations may have combined to form a pastel shade of violet or green, just beyond our conscious view. Or maybe our shadows discreetly shook hands behind our backs? Who knows. We are strangers after all.
We interact with each other in line at the grocery store as I put the divider on the belt after I'm through. I don't have to extend myself in such a way, but I do so as a simple courtesy to you. You walk out of the building in front of me and hold the door for me. I say "Thank you." Now we're even. Manners are a saving grace for us strangers, as they are the only way we can disguise the vile, despicable creatures we really are underneath the masks. Hundreds of thousands of millions of billions of active minds all over the Earth, plotting and scheming and cursing and crying. In complete silence there is still a deafening ruckus going on inside all of our skulls. Strangers, indeed.
Some of us hate silently under our breath, and some of us pull out automatic weapons at the mall the next town over. It's all relative, really. Some of us care only about ourselves, and others care only about justice for all who inhabit this realm of existence. Piety and dignity, desperation and greed. Maintaining some semblance of order. Yin and Yang. Seeking comfort in each other, yet the turmoil of trying to communicate with a mind that is not your own is never-ending and completely, unabashedly futile. Expressing your views with the absolute determination to win an unwinable battle. You vs. Me. Me vs. Them. You are them, and even in the most intimate of circumstances, we shall always be strangers.
