I see you every day. On my way to office. On my way back home. When I look out the window of my room. Through the rain-streaked windshield of a taxi. Walking, running, arguing, laughing, crying, hurting, loving, praying, begging, living. I don't know you, but I wish I did.
I have often wondered about the lives you lead. It could be very similar to mine, or so very different. Does someone wait for you at home? Or do you step across an empty threshold. Do you play with your son, make love to your husband or wife, or do you sink into a chair, battle weary, before digging yourself out to dine on whatever can be prepared with the least amount of effort? I have often wondered about things that are of no business to me, because I so desperately would like to know you. In this teeming city of millions I would like reach out and touch you, and feel how your lives vibrate. Do you yearn for tomorrow, or do you not want the night to end? What are your hopes, what are your dreams? What makes you get out of bed when you wake up in the morning? What drives you through the day?
You know what I would love to do? I would love to talk to you. I would love to know your story, and don't tell me you don't have one, because I don't believe you. You are alive. You have lived. You have a story. You have tales of how you lost the ones you loved and met the one you are in love with. You have been a good son, or an angry rebel. Slowly, the world has tried to shape you, and you have sometimes struggled, and sometimes relented, until you have come to be the unique combination of qualities, personal traits and quirks and beliefs that make you, YOU. You have battled deadly enemies in the school playground, and suffered heartbreak and loss in college, you have suffered humiliation and tasted glory in your profession. You have looked into the eyes of your child and seen your dreams coming true. Or perhaps you have done none of those things. Perhaps you have faced all those situations, but they have been so different for you that you cannot conceive the emotions I have been describing. Either way, your life is what the epics are made of, and I would so very much like to know you.
Thank you for listening