Last Sunday, I was strolling down the road simply continuing on ahead, when I saw them. There is a couple, a man and a lady, that lives in my neighborhood. I’d surmise they are in their eighties, and they’ll some of the time clasp hands as they stroll down the road. I don’t have the foggiest idea about their backstories or even their names. In any case, it wouldn’t be a stretch to state that I adore those stranger people.
You know those individuals you see constantly — amid your drive, or at the bistro, or even just in passing — and however you know nothing about them, they progress toward becoming installations throughout your life?
Maybe you make up tales about them, or perhaps you essentially wonder: Where do they live? What’s their most loved book? Do they have an orange feline named Julius? It is safe to say that someone is, some place, considering them at this moment?
They’re secretive, yet commonplace, similar to human signposts or tourist spots or even rabbit’s feet.
My life is loaded with these not really strangers.
In my mid-twenties, I lived over the road from an abrasive plunge bar — the sort of storied NYC foundation that genuinely has the right to be marked a “watering opening.” Every morning, as I’d get up ahead of schedule to prepare for my office work, I’d watch out the window to see the equivalent grizzled, whiskery man sitting at the bar, his Australian Shepherd by his feet. We never talked — we never to such an extent as looked — yet he was a piece of my every day schedule. In my mind, he was a mariner, overflowing with stories from the vast oceans.
It can give a feeling of solace to see similar individuals, over and over. Like: truly, we’re all as yet existing on this enormous turning rock. On the off chance that a not really stranger neglects to appear in their assigned spot — like the yoga tangle the whole distance in the front right corner — you may ponder what occurred. It is safe to say that they are alright?
In different cases, you may be irritated when they keep appearing.
A companion drives into Grand Central Station, and each morning for right around two decades, she has seen the equivalent disturbing man. “There’s this person who thinks the train is his own restroom,” she says. “It drives me bananas. He brushes his hair and clasps his nails and gives them a chance to fly everywhere. I just observed him do it yesterday and resembled, ‘UGH, you are still in my life!'”
It can likewise be jolting to see a not really stranger outside of any relevant connection to the subject at hand. When I spot individual rec center goers out on the planet, dressed for the workplace or out at supper, I can scarcely process that they’re not wearing spandex. It challenges the narratives I’ve made up about them. (Red Shorts basically can’t work at J.P. Morgan!)
The not really stranger wonder exists in the virtual world, also, where similar faces as often as possible cycle past on dating applications. “The most recent year of dating has been harsh,” deplored one companion, holding up her telephone to show a photograph of a not really stranger with the gigantic fish he got. “Be that as it may, it’s encouraging to see that Roy additionally stays single.”
One day as of late, a person moved toward me at a bistro. “Hello, I know you!” he said. I didn’t have any acquaintance with him. “We used to work in a similar place of business,” he proceeded, effectively providing the location of my previous boss. “What’s more, I’d see you consistently in the lift!” I was very sure I had never observed this individual in my life. However he had seen me.
This conveys me to the most personality twisting inquiry of all — consider the possibility that YOU’RE somebody’s not really stranger. Meta.
Do you have a not really stranger? I’d love to catch wind of them…