“My head is a hive of words that won’t settle.” -Virginia Woolf
There’s a spot near the window. It reeks of the presence of the human before me; the conversations they had here, the thoughts they wrestled with, the questions they posed.
I think it’s Cheryl Strayed in one of her responses in Dear Sugar who writes something along the lines of, “Stay as close to the ground as you can.” I feel that here. Small and eternal between the breaths and heartbeats of myself and the strangers around me.
I sit and watch the cars and people as they pass by. Their lives fall in and out of mine at an uncomfortably quick pace and yet, I still wonder what they see when they look my way.