Strangers

In the middle of a busy day, walking fast, reaching destinations, heading towards encounters.

I see a room full of strangers. Every eye up front, or down towards their own.
I walk past, avoiding touch, sometimes skitting away from them.

Right in front of me, all those strangers.
A sea of faces I don't know. All of them different... but yet the same.

I have walked past them. Constantly. But they are strangers... Why would I mind them?

In the sea of faces, that make these strangers... I don't see any face turning, I don't see any familiar eyes on me.

No one is looking at me.

Maybe I am the stranger...