Connection.

The world is a strange disconnect over which we perceive the illusion of a connection.

Strange how people change, and strange also how they stay the same. I look around me: I see people I've known and also people who I have not known. Many faces: faces, faces, faces.

And most of the faces are merely surface: there is nothing in most of them for me - no investment, no story, no plot, no connection. I wonder: do they all have stories? Do they have lives? How might I know such things? And, also, how could I prove otherwise?

There are very few people who I actually know. Half the time I feel as though I do not know myself, so then how could I claim to know others?

I look across the library. I spot someone I know. He taps his pencil against the palm of his hand. I do that sometimes when I am nervous. Is that connection? Commonalities? Can differences be connection, too? Is even touching connection?