A walk through acid rain.
I always believed that people are adept in sensing the thoughts and sentiments behind every creation. Even when meaning isn’t immediately clear to our conscious state of mind, the subject is inclined to become more fascinating when it finds its way into our subconscious.
× Vol. 3
Sometimes I look around at strangers and I wonder about their hearts, their hands, their spines; about how much they are carrying today.
Aren’t we all just made up of tiny stories, moments of impact and points of connection? Of atoms and stardust and nicknames and eyelashes? I think about how all of us have suffered heartbreak, how we’ve all laughed until we’ve cried, how we’ve all been knocked to our knees by love.
How we have all spilled a drink, misplaced car keys, stubbed our toes. How we’ve all entwined our fingers through another’s, how we’ve all repeatedly pushed an elevator button, and how we’ve all burned our tongues on too hot coffee.
Sometimes it’s all I can do not to marvel at our humanness, the bizarre sameness of our strange quirks and shared oddities.
We’re all just beautiful, weird, little creatures scampering around beneath the stars and doing the best that we know how.