November 1, 2008
I saw him on the street. Through the graffiti etched window of the bus I rode. He saw me as well. I considered who could see who better, and if the other might get a false impression. The bus was suspended in time. Instead of looking away and avoiding eye contact as I normally would, I held his coal eyes in mine. I held his face with the hands of my memory. I held a conversation with him. It felt as if either one of us could have been an animal in a zoo, longing for the touch of freedom.