City as they say – never sleeps; neither can I tonight. As I stare out of the window, I can see my face reflected back in the mirror, illuminated by the pure white and surprisingly warm monitor light. Even at this odd hour life just keeps going on. A homeless man trying to curl into the smallest of the nooks, hoping to warm himself with his own body heat, a tireless road light turning from green to yellow to red even though there are hardly any cars to obey it and the shimmering lights of ferries beyond, floating carelessly on a dark deep bay filled with the salty fridget waters from the north. There are stories everywhere, inside each of those windows shielded with blinds trying to hide love, shame, passion, determination, fear and betrayal. As the night will give way to the morning, these stories will emerge out of the dreams and nightmares and step into the reality of a new day yet continue as if the night never really happened. I will see that caring mother, who keenly watches her young son climb into the school bus. I wonder
“Why don’t I ever see that boy’s father? Does he not live with them? Is the mother happy and the son secure?” And there will be that furniture shop owner, who washes the pavement clean every morning hoping to make a more inviting entrance.
“I have never seen a customer in that shop. It must be making losses. Why waste time washing dirt off the pavement instead of improving the furniture selection? May be he is better suited to do something else than selling furniture.” As I spread my gaze across the city, I realize, for every reality there is a story. Story initiated with bits of reality and completed by my own fantasy.
“Then what is their reality?” I question myself. A humbling realization that I may never know makes the story, eventually and invariably, the reality. A disturbing thought occurs,
“If all my actions are in response to the imaginations of my mind, then what is being alive and aware?” Staring straight into my reflection in the window, I can sense it staring back with the same inquisitive eyes.
“What is my reality?” it’s asking.
