a thousand different faces.

my walk home is filled with fascination. 

as you're on your own; wrapped up in thoughts; conjuring lists of the billion things that need to be done. 

people walk by.

tall.

short.

alone.

with pets.

sorrowful.

tired.

smiling.

each with their own story. that i will never know. and probably neither will the person behind me.

but doing this walk every day, you do start to see the same kind of people on route. 

no names, just 'the old man and his dog', 'the husband and wife', 'the guy on the bike'.

there is something poetic about that. the sense of familiarity. the fact that a person will say good morning to you. no judgement. no questions. no way of knowing where each is going. where you've been. just a smile. a smile to send you on your way to another day.

and there is something beautifully simple about the joy that provides.

so i ask you...