Dearest Stranger

January 7, 2009
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Dearest Stranger,
When I touch your hand, I feel as if I've touched millions.
When I see your face, I see the eyes of a person hardened and twisted by the world.
But when I look closer I see joy and laughter.
I see something farmiliar; a pair of eyes I already know.
Perhap, it was just a reflection, a glance of my face in your own.
But I don't recall seeing a face at all.
Maybe, dear stranger, you aren't so strange.
I know all your stories, your thoughts, your dreams.
Because they are all my own, it would seem.

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