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Chatoic Beauty of Unfamiliar Faces

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I looked around at all the familiar faces. Each person had some characteristic, some sense of feature to them. Busy bodies scurried about, smiling, laughing. The world moved quickly, too quickly for my keen eyes to notice much of anything dire. For a moment however, it seemed to slow down, to stop. The faces all became unrecognizable. I didn’t know any of these people, any of their home lives, what they thought, what they loved, or what they didn’t. I only knew what they presented on a platter to me; I only saw what they wanted me to see. I saw them through a one way mirror. Strangers, they were all strangers to me. I had just attached assumptions by little words that decisively made it into my ears, and by unpretentious movements they made. However, these messy groups of strangers were like a family. The chaos of each day here had become no longer turmoil but systematic. I welcomed the havoc as I stepped among the many groups of messy, uncertain, beautiful young adults to my car. I got in my car, looking back once more at the beautiful destruction that most people would find horrific, and I drove off. I glanced back in my rearview mirror for the last time, and saw nothing but a messy chaotic group of strangers that I would probably never meet.





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