Let me tell you about The way I see a stranger.

Walking... myself who are

Watching... Wandering...

More than thousands of faces... Do I ask

they? Do they ask themselves who am I? Inevitably, appearance dictates the shape
my mind. And appearance is dictated by

in which the essence of the stranger will be moulded in either our

hopes or our fears. We see what we expect to see... we see what we are.

But then this would mean that there are

no strangers at all, and yet I am looking to you,

STRANGER, as if I don’t know you. Do

you know why?

Because I don’t know myself perfectly.


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