disconnect

I felt disconnected the other night. I was walking with a friend around Friedrichshain’s humble commercial streets. Although I was the freer person lurking and peeking into the cozy display of bars and restaurants, at peoples’ laughters and their eye contacts; I was the contained one. I felt somewhat suffocating, being mentally enclosed as I continue down that street, in an environment that I don’t belong to. I am an outsider.

I see and recognize myself in those strangers, in their light complicities and intimate exchanges, in a time and space I once belonged to. I was an insider.