In these crowds, we tread alone.
We keep pushing the obstinate handles of our bags and sacks back on our shoulders asking them to stay in place – they never do – they look for a relaxed release. We share a hello and greet the weather, we tread alone.
We shield ourselves from black and white emotions, miss the grey areas, and escape the colour around us. We yearn for beauty and seek it in enclosed spaces and collected hues, we tread alone.
In the worlds that we build, so small and confined; closed to every person without, we imagine the right and wrong – we even believe in it – and if we do choose someday to step out and walk in the real world, these infinite worlds never interesect, leave alone interact; we tread alone.
In prosaic posts that vie for poetic standards – coupled with blurred photographs edited to pass as art in an age where anything goes because even respect has lost meaning and foundation; in fact meaning has lost meaning; somehow we are supposed to and we do find meaning; we tread alone.
In our fears, however, we are together. Not united, but together – as a crowd. Whatever the form and the basis of the fear, we have an uncanny ability to make it our own personal demon – a convenient transformation as a detriment of our personal interests – in that we tread this path of our life together; we tread this path alone, together.