"Yes," I say, rising. "But whose attention was I trying to catch?"
"Oh," I replied. A knowing look: "You know, strangers."
"Why?"
"Because you're always one of the crowd. We all want our turn on stage."
That, or sex, or a million other things, I figure quietly. But I won't disagree aloud.
I'd just shout me down anyway: I can hear myself going on:
"We say, 'love me!' and then, immediately, 'now someone else love me!'"
"Again, I agree. But why?"
Quietly, a dark pause in a midnight hallway later:
"Maybe because we're incomplete in this indoor internet age."
--Where everyone is part of the crowd, and no-one gets a turn on stage.
May '14
