Crossing that Intersection

Fumbling with the sounds that roam around the city.

I take off my earphone and decide to walk, bare from the sound that fills up the mind and the rhythm of the body, I let the mumbling and the murmur of the city to take me to places.

As I walk, I hear the honking of cars, the traffic whizzing into the distance from all directions. There are conversations in language and rhythm I do not understand, and that distance of detachment and foreign sense calms me. It is being in a place where no one knows you, and you are allowed to be anything, everything, you aspire to be.

So I keep walking without the sound in my ears but the sound of the city to take me into its arm and guide me through this walk. I come to an intersection and I see people on the side.

Intersection is like a bridge, connecting people from the other side of the river, the traffic being the running current and time, becomes the river that bridges the two sides. I can see families, students, couples, workers, people who I will and will not meet again.

We pass in the same time zone for a few seconds and then we are off into our own ventures. But in that moment, of standing there and waiting for the lights to change its colours, waiting for the bridge to come down, we are existing in the same time and space.

We are forced into the same time and space. After we cross, there is nothing that connects us with that other person on the other side anymore.

We are foreign to each other again.