Whenever I travel alone and it so happen that I am seated near the window pane of the bus, I got to people watch. I see different faces that I might never see again, I see busy streets, people looking at a vast air on a bus next to us, I see beggars. I see hundreds, if not thousands, of different age, social status and personalities. I always ask myself, ‘Where is this woman going? Why is she walking too fast? Is there an emegency?’ Or, ‘What are the possible problem of that guy sitting next to the candy vendors?’.
I sometimes get stuck in a traffic and from a far, I could see a car drifting away as it goes to another path. I sometimes ask myself, ‘who is driving? Who is he with? Where are they going? To their job? To the house? To the hospital? Will I ever encounter him/her?’
I always wondered, what are their stories. What are their destination. Ayala? Cubao? Crossing? Bulacan? Somewhere North? I always think that looking through people, we will realize that there are millions, billions of stories left untold. There are these people with different circumstance in life, different path and problems.
When I do this, I feel less alone, I think less of my problems. And I realize, each person is a warrior in our own battle named the so called ‘Life’.