Day after day as we fall into step with out routines, blind walkers mumbling the club passwords like, "Have a nice day" and "That dress looks lovely on you" or " What did you get on that test?". Day after day we encounter the same people, silently judging them by what they wear or what they say, and they stay strangers; background blurs in our own realities.
But perhaps that girl you ride the elevator with everyday, or the boy that sits by you in history, perhaps they're not here on accident. Maybe there's something dazzling about them, a missing piece to the puzzle we're struggling over: your very best friend or just a kind word on your worst day. Strangers will surprise us, if only we give them the chance to. But we also have to realize that taking that chance isn't just those easy questions with the burdenless answers. Perhaps to get that dazzle we're seeking, we need to be willing to ask that practical stranger in History something meaningful, something worthwhile. Those hard, awkward, "forbidden" questions never asked, never heard, never answered.
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Or maybe I'll meet you someday at a café in Paris, when we are worn with travel and wind and time, and we'll smile and chat there in the plaza, eyes bright and laughing because you won't be that practical stranger from history anymore, not just a blur as we walk around in our own blind realities. Our lives will have touched, even if only for a moment, our fingerprints left behind like a sentence among thousands of pages. We are there, always, apart of each other's stories, never to be erased.
And who knows what will come of that.
*Just my musings put to paper*
