I'm at LAX heading to Colorado to spend the weekend with my family. Something I think about is all the random people around. How I'll likely never see them again. How there are so many people in the world, and how any of them, if I got some time with them, might be very important to me. Everyone comes to the present moment (in the airport) with their lifetimes of memories and educations and books read and hearts broken and things to be ashamed of. Think of the psychic weight of all that. I wonder what the odds are of someone in this terminal having committed a murder. How many people are happy? How many have had a divorce or a knee replacement? How many people like ham? There's a crazy amount of human experience, but I don't dare tap into even a little bit of it because I might end up with one of those people who talks and talks at me. One of those people who can't connect and who pick the boring parts, the untrue parts, of their personality to share at large. Plus, I want to read.
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