What I see around me – young and old, a mish-mash of people. That’s what is so funny about common meeting places, like a doctor’s office, or the mall, even the grocers. Each person is coming from their homes, their jobs, their cars, pouring into this building, where I sit. Where they come from doesn’t really matter. Some seem to not want to leave, as they linger in conversation with a clerk or a secretary; some can’t stand the time they burn here.
What people bring with them, their invisible baggage, fuels the Observer’s appetite. Something to watch, a peep-show into another person’s life. Do people see what I do? Are you colored with the crayons that I’ve picked for you? People have secrets. At times, they want to share them. Society has grown more closed. Each of us wants to maintain our anonymity. We sport invisible walls so that in our moments of waiting we will be left alone. Some of us appear to have castles with motes, with shark infested waters surrounding us. That heavy attitude that tells you, not to speak to us. Some of us may feel such a great need, a longing for someone to speak to us, as our loneliness overtakes us.
There is a shaky balancing act between knowing too much and not enough about someone. “…it’s none of your business, we shouldn’t listen as he yells at his wife.” or “I don’t think I ever knew that about my neighbor of 15 years.”
A doctors office is a perfect place to study strangers. You will never see these people again and if you do, you probably won’t remember them.