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Strangers Being Human.



Today I am a stranger, passing a collection of strangers. I am a son to a father, a brother to a sister, an uncle to a nephew, a king to a pauper, a pauper to a king, a child to a grandfather, and a grandfather to a child. I am a foreigner to a traveller, an Englishman to a foreigner, a customer to a servant, and an associate to a customer. I am a source of joy to my friends, frustration to my enemies, and illusion to those who only know me through the work I produce; as much as those who produce their own art are to me. 

I am the suave Casanova in the crowd, the unkempt fool in the distance, the distant soul by the side, and the curious indifference to the few. I am the all for one and one for all, the free spirit, the too in love to leave, and the one that got away. I am the stroker of dogs, the visceral interloper of commercialism, and the Machiavellian response to those I unfairly deem culpable to ridicule. 

I am the chained to civilisation, the psychologically liberated, the trapped by conscious conflict, and the drifter upon free society. I am the person who pays for the addiction of freedom offered by technology, and the one who sells time in order to gain more of it. I am young, I am old, I am wise, I am an idiot, I am a philosopher, I am a clown. I am a hundred thoughts offering a thousand signs pointing along a million possibilities. I am your complete opposite, I am your exact replica…

Today I am a stranger, passing a collection of strangers. You are the stranger, and are all these people and more. This make us wonderful, it also makes us human.

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