The luxury of anonymity.

At the tip of Seward Bay, Alaska.

In a room full of people, each with a pair of eyes can still somehow make me invisible. So is it not eyes that see, I wonder? Or has it always been the heart, affection, connection which helps us see each other?

Ahh, Invisibility the powerful cloak that reveals my introversion. My need for me to not be known, recognized, spoken to, heard even. Where fame would be sickening, fatal even.

At the cinemas in a foreign country, in confined airplane seats, metro and bus crowds does this luxury befall me. With strange eyes meeting yet not seeing. Voices loud but still unheard. So many people but yet me happy all alone.

They all look through me, thank God! For that allows me to dig through me. To dig and dissect my emotions, thoughts, curiosities, wonderings. To have long lively exchanges with my first and forever friend.

The external noises, movements, happenings all drown from the enchanting chaos within. Personal conversations, the grieving, grudges, disappointments, celebrations and yes, inside jokes abound.

What about anonymity do I love so much. Maybe that I don’t have to care and concern myself about anyone. No One. No duties, no values have to play out. Just silly ol’ me enjoying my own company.

So in being anonymous, unknown here and there, do I stumble upon the treasure of — hearing seeing and maybe accidentally, slowly falling in love with me.

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Written while sitting in the middle seat on a 13 hour plane ride jumping continents.