We walk the streets surrounded by strangers, each of us encapsulated within our own bubbles. Every person is on a different adventure. Every person has their own conflict, their own shares of laughter, happiness. Every person has their own story. A story different from yours. And mine.

But we all walk on. Not stopping. Blind to the incredible tales and flood of colorful characters around us.

Until maybe suddenly. We bump. Into a stranger. And for that split second, when the two bubbles collide, when your eyes meet, just for that very moment, you glimpse a little of the stories they could tell.

A father, eyes excited at the prospect of returning home to his family; a mother, eyes warm with days of watching her little ones grow up; a boy, eyes young still believing in black and white, right and wrong, and simple magic; a near-ly woman, eyes tired and rubbed raw living in a world of different shades of gray; a boy turning into a man, eyes bright with the possible futures ahead.

And for that fleeting second, you fall hopelessly and wonderfully into another world that is normally hidden, protected by bubbles made to keep out as much as to keep in. But the moment soon passes. We look away embarrassed for trespassing into places we should not have been. Apologies are pronounced, and then as quickly as possible, we walk on. Bubbles newly formed. Blind once again.

To live with my eyes wide open.