Monday, February 11, 2008

An Anonymous Woman

For some reason I find myself on the street at rush hour. Thousands are rushing around, and as I look up to see them speed by, I notice a woman rushing toward me. Her face is scrunched up and at first I think she's laughing. She approaches (so fast, with all the others) and I see quite clearly she isn't laughing at all. She is crying, desperately. Tears race down her face.

In New York City, everything happens on the street. The millions of others buffer us from having to feel much of anything at all so that when you do feel something, like this woman, you quickly discover that buffer is actually a great human wall that not only doesn't feel very much, it doesn't even notice you at all.

On another day, open suffering in the street would be an inspiration. Despite her pain, she is carrying along; destroyed, but functional. She's a metaphor. And yet today I'm not inspired because frankly I've been feeling *gloomy* lately, and she's more than a metaphor. She's a person.

I'm haunted by her image and I want to do something, maybe give her a smile. Just a tiny gesture to let her know that someone actually saw her, and then briefly I think maybe she doesn't want to be noticed. Maybe she really just wants to blend in and hide.

The woman passes by quickly and now it's too late, the opportunity lost. There's nothing I can do because she's swallowed up by the masses and gone forever; alone, anonymous.


Dame Daxx said...

Was it Hillary Clinton?

Sorry. I love Hill.

Jesse Archer said...

I'd wouldn't think twice about giving Hillary a smile about now!

lwando said...

I think it's so sad that people can be so lonely to a point of killing themselves but there are about 6 billion people living in this world. Hope you get over what you are going through Jesse.

Happy Valentines by the way.