I am sitting at a wine bar facing the corner of 4th and University St. in Seattle. I brought a book, but in the moments I take a break to sip my wine and watch the people walk by, I wonder what their stories are. So many individual strings and lives occupying the same busy street corner even for just a few seconds…it gives me a funny feeling to acknowledge there are so many lives just outside the window.
I wonder, too, if anyone has ever watched me walk by, if they made up stories for me, and what those stories are. What are the lives that I may have lived in someone elses imagination?