What does the passerby think?

“I imagine a couple holding hands strolling down the street when the day is fading and the sun is warm. An orange glow provided by that big star and the dim lamp posts allowing the two to make their way safely to, well, wherever it is exactly that they are going. I question the ambiance of their home. It's surely beautiful on the outside. I wonder if they're 2% or skim kind of people. I bet they have a cat. Maybe an orange tabby. To ponder the memories that fill the frames on their walls and how many steps the last one home must walk up each day to greet the other upon returning from work. A kiss goodbye meets a kiss hello.”

-This is a caption I wrote inspired by the photo I’d taken above. You can find it on my Instagram.

Every new encounter, every new place, every new person brings about a whole new unvisited realm in this world. I let my mind wonder. We pass by so many individuals, so many styles, so many talents, so many upbringings, so many souls. Each has their own history and a future to follow. And so do we. Yet here we are at the same place at the same time.

I ask myself what a passerby might think of me as a stranger. Am I seemingly approachable or more self-secluded based on my posture? Do I seem friendly enough by the way my face sits naturally? Does my appearance give off a certain mood or feeling? And I look different every day. I don’t know that I can say my appearance is consistently ever fitting one mold. Not that it needs to. Not that it always makes a difference. Each interprets a different way. We all see things differently; we see people differently.

The passerby’s job: solely judging a book by its cover. But does anyone ever want to open up the pages?

I absolutely adore couple watching. I think about love a lot. You have to admit even if you’re avoiding it and think it's super cliché it's probably one of the most fascinating concepts out there. How many conversations have you wanted to start but you were too afraid? Will you just magically bump right into your soul mate strolling down 5^th avenue? It’s weird. Now we have all that the internet has to offer which is a whole new domain for bumping into strangers but think about a time before this. Even now it’s still possible, but I think we are far less willing to approach the unknown and ask them to grab a cup of coffee over some nice conversation. But do you ever want to? And you feel your throat clench up because it thinks it’s necessary for you to hold back. Drawing into flight mode. Sometimes even a smile feels too overbearing.

I like to pretend each and every single one, every stranger, has their own secret admirer. Even if it's just for a second. It gives me some sort of internal peace.

Like the girl that’s geeking out over the tall guy in the really cool denim jacket. She’s screaming on the inside but completely paralyzed on the outside because of their close proximity waiting to be seated at a table to get some food. A little place tucked away in a corner of the city but packed full. She’s with a friend trying so hard in an attempt to carry on a conversation but visibly distracted by his sight. He’s alone. And undoubtedly comfortable in being so. He’s observant of his surroundings like it’s the first time he’s been here. She’s watchful and patient. Curious as to if he’s waiting for a girl. She’ll be crushed and she’s never even heard his name.

Or the man who watches intently at the girl doing her work in the corner of the coffee beanery by the glowing table side lamp making her brown hair radiate a deep shade of red while a few strands will repeatedly fall in front of her face every few minutes or so as she’s leans her head down to write. She keeps tucking them behind her ear. But he’d love to do it for her. Whoever he is. She doesn’t even look up; she’s too engulfed in her work. But he’s happy about this. For now. More opportunity to admire without her catching on. Until she’s gone.

As a passerby, the unknown remains unknown. We may never see these people again. But we’ll pass our way by countless more.

So next time you step outside, will you be doing the admiring? Or will you be the admired? And the real question:

Will you let the unknown remain the unknown?