A lot of the past year has been for me an exercise in wandering. A sort of to-and-froing over who I would like to be, the things in my field of vision most worth pursuing, and how do I aim upwards, even at my lowest, least-proud moments. It doesn't always work. I lose myself more often than is good for me and find myself dipping into other people's stories. It's not entirely my fault. They're just so compelling, you know? The little proud ways in which you carry yourselves, the way your mouth curbs when you're telling a secret, the panoply of things you're embarrassed about when a new person's looking at you. Just the other day, I was on the bus, deep in my music and was startled by an old woman coming to stand beside me. And I jumped and so did she. Poor thing, she'd only asked me for directions, but by the time I'd taken out an earphone, she'd covered her mouth, embarrassed maybe by having to ask questions, or crooked teeth, or an errant fleck of spit.
People, man. The most fascinating things.