Stranger
"I see the face and the eyes and the mouth,
But not the soul behind"
R. Kipling
The strangers on the street. Facing the crisp light that comes after rain I see their shadows as they walk through me, not minding me at all. The sudden sun intensifies the magic of the evening, peopled like a dream. I search in vain for something in common, realising that it's not the bright light that stops me from seeing through the appearances. The sun is bright but empty. I find myself in a place where I don't belong. Although blinded by the sun I can now see very clearly. I am the stranger.
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