Strangers wandering the quiet city streets with fake enthusiasm. Passengers onboard a stationary bus staring dispassionately out a grimy window. Annoying salespeople chirpily regaling potential customers with tales of their magical, do-all-wonder products as they squirrel their way through the madding crowd like hunter to prey.
A street performer impeccably mimicking the astounded and pained expressions of yet another pimply, lovesick teenager with poised perfection. Guy with sad sob story finally tasting triumph, bittersweet as it may be, on a popular reality show tailor-made for TV. Girl decorating the walls of her room with yellowed, worn-out pop star posters of her own creation, oblivious to the politics of her beloved nation.
It is so easy to forget that the world does not revolve only around us. It might take an unexpected encounter to bring you back on your own two feet again, so that you can feel the cheery coarseness of the sand and the gentle tickling of the salty waves beneath your toes. Random events, too, could knock the air off your lungs and bowl you right over in an unsightly display of amateur acrobatics, then ending spectacularly with a most unflattering thud.
Those stories do not mean anything when there is no one to tell them to. Truth is, we all have our own stories – and depending on how you look at it, perhaps we are really not all that different from that jerk of a driver zipping across the highway in his fiery red convertible, a lit cigarette firmly in hand and with his right arm dangling out the window.