I Know

I know.

I know people.

I look at them, I observe them, I notice them. They mind their own business most of the time. But sometimes, they become like me. Even they, look, notice, and observe but not people; someone.

I see it when a boy smirks silently when he sits beside a pretty girl every day.

I recognize that smile a girl has when she is sitting on an old rusty bench with a boy whom she admires a lot.

That’s what I see, that’s what I know.

I know that when a girl a roaming around on streets in a cold evening, she’s not going somewhere, anywhere. She’s just roaming around, she’s just looking around until she finds a sight that pleases her eyes – a coffeehouse – and she goes inside sits there for long. I know that, I have seen that. I know that look of a satisfied lost in those eyes.

I know that spark that comes in one’s eyes when they see something that pleases their soul.

I know that hopelessness, that darkness, that defeat because I have seen it. I have seen it in a man when he walks as slow as a snail around an empty lake to catch a fish.

I know that happiness, that joy, that sparkle in those rusty old eyes of a being because I have seen it. I have seen it in a man who is homeless, who is hopeless, hearth-less yet rich with a song in his heart. A song that rings in his ears all the time, a song that he shares, he sings to others that walk by. I have stood there, near that man who is hearth-less and know him.

I, myself have been lost in old streets to find a familiar soul, to get to know them; and I have, known them.

I have known a woman who has been as old as time, who has seen the world turn upside down and be born again from its own ashes. I have known her. I have met her on old streets of Brooklyn in an empty cool afternoon and talked to her about her life and the others but I did not bother to ask her name, or where she lives or when can I see her again because I don’t need to. I know her by heart, I know her by soul, and it is even between us for she knows me as well. She knows I am lost and she encourages me to be more lost, to go on ferries and get lost, to go to New York and get lost. She knows me. She knows me by heart because she has met me, she has known me.

But I know her, I know them by seeing them, looking them, staring them, observing them.

For that, I thus believe, am greater.





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A Local Shop on Brooklyn Heights

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