Next door

Standing by the window, vehicles and pedestrians on the road, trees and houses by the lake, and clouds scattered on the horizon came into view one after another.

Sometimes I think about something, or it has nothing to do with it, and sometimes I don't think about anything but look at it.

I don't have a goal, and I don't focus on one person. In this sense, the things that come into view, they are passive. On the other hand, I am passive. I obviously don't need something, but my eyes are still full of things.

Very often, they are not what I want to see, and what I want to see may not be in the line of sight. There are some, even in the line of sight, I want to see, but the naked eye can not tell.

Just like this moment, I may also be ignored and filtered by other passing eyes. I am not their target. I just inadvertently touched their line of sight. We all lack the need for each other.

In this way, many things, like me, are being ignored and ignored, which often makes me fall into vagueness after looking at it.

But what is certain is that I am in the middle of things. I must be next door to someone, and someone must be my neighbor, but most of the time, we don't know each other very well. I don't know who they are. Are we close? Tolerance? Estranged? Or ostracism? We build a whole consciously or unconsciously, although we are independent.

Sometimes, I also want to know them, but this is almost extravagant hope. In fact, it is impossible for me to know anything, even though some of it is familiar to me. I can't explain what it means to know-see? Understand? Perception? But that's not all-I can't get inside things, or I can't be so many things themselves. Even sometimes, I can't be myself.

I'm out of things! In a sense, just outside the world, everything is a world. This is doomed, many times, I may be lonely, but I am not sad. Because, next door, there must be someone like me.