Epiphany
Home from a hectic week. I am in the process of putting up my Mt. Kinabalu photos, but for now you shall have to content yourselves with the ones from Frangipani.
Click here for said radical hair.
Walked up a bustling street on the cusp of noon. Virgin midday heat razed my skull; I stumbled along in a glazed squint. Watched the ebb and flow of a liquid continent of people around me. I thought of how immense, how vast, how complex my own life was. I tried to apply such existential immensity to each and every person that passed. I tried to imagine the emotional sagas, the faces and people I knew, the likes, the dislikes, the twists, the turns, the places, the thoughts, the sheer scope of living, the day to day of my life, to every single person that jostled past me on that street.
My imagination conceded defeat after the third person.
Too vast, too immense. I was defeated by the notion that each passing person, each passing life I had tried to live was nothing more than a nameless, faceless presence in my own life. My passage through that street tugged on loose, fleeting strands of the existence of hundreds of people, only to slip through my mind's fingers like sand. They passed in and out of my life like dust motes.
All this, that I will never know. It bears down on me like Everest.