alone in the crowd

I was walking on the street. People were passing by but I didn’t look at the faces. They were in twos, threes, while I was one, looking resolutely ahead, savouring the anonymity of being in a crowd.

This is not like a crowded train in the mornings, being surrounded by people going to work. They are not as alive. They quietly read, or worse, mash the buttons on their PSP’s. Mostly they just stand or sit and look about.

Or when I peek above the wall of my cubicle and see people working, discussing, walking about. I am merely sitting quietly at my desk, cupping my chin in my hand, looking, wondering.

Only in the city, I feel lost, I feel alone in the crowd. It feels wonderful and absurd and laugh out loud. It must be the pedestrian motion. Being surrounded by people going to places.

Sometimes, I venture to catch faces. Sometimes, I wait before I turn around to catch another glimpse, to see backs receding, bobbing, dissolving, disappearing.

Each of them must be a wonderful, happy, story. I walk lightly, enjoying my strange mood. Only a familiar face can jarr me from my reverie.

And it does, I look to my right as someone looks right. People walk past who know nothing of what happened, who continue walking, just as we continue walking.

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