I walk down the street sometimes and I feel like I can’t grasp all of the strands. All these people — they know something. They’ve selected the correct clothes. They’ve heard this new song. They just went for a run. They probably have a very interesting hobby. This sounds like the typical anxiety of a self-conscious person–and it is–but it is exaggerated by my utter lack of interest in actually participating in any of those things. The ebb and flow of typical life. I don’t envy all the strangers I pass, rather, I am fascinated by the lack of intersection between my life and theirs. I honestly have no idea how they know what they know and do what they do.

I do my best to weave what I know together with my perception of what they know and do. And usually I do it very poorly. Strands of hair sticking out amongst the folds, gathered but rarely fastened at the bottom. If anyone were to shake me I’m sure the whole thing would just come apart.