There is something innate within us that draws us to people.
A gravity between bodies as if our cells were yearning to recombine with total strangers.
Perhaps it is the fantasy of the chance encounter that plays through our heads.
An empty restaurant stays empty, a spectacle on the street pulls crowds of onlookers from their daily routine.
Gasping and gawking at the slight deviation from their day.
Cafes are interesting places.
A gathering of people together in a room with absolutely no communication going on between them.
Sitting on islands of plush seats, all eyes absorbed on paper or lit pixels.
What a strange thing to take the time to seek the presence of others and simotaniously shut out the world.
Maybe it is our egos that draw us to such places, feeding on the attention of slight looks from the periphery of others.
Cafes in other countries could never be this quiet, ours feign intamacy.
The rotation will continue, some will leave without consequence,
other’s will come to take their place marking their teritory with books, binders and bags.
She Surveys the room before setting down,
setting up her binder next to her book laid out in front of her laptop.
She plugs her ears into her headphones, moments only interrupted by a buzz of her cellphone.
No wonder Americans are so lonely.
We feel the pull of human connection and yet when we get there we stop short,
giving ourselves paper excuses.
wondering if others are watching,
seeming too busy to share a stare.
