You look forlorn. How are you. Do you have friends. Do you have a girlfriend. Do you have a job. Are you from here. What race are you. You speak Yiddish so well. You look familiar. I know your brother. I know your sister. I knew your father. I knew your mother. What do you actually do. Who are you. A barrage of questions...
Oh, well:
I am not despondent, it just happens that I have deep-set-eyes.
Today, I feel good, inspired even.
Yes, I do have friends. Many, but, because of my work they have to force me to see them.
I like to keep my love life private. The healthiest relationship is not in a fish bowl.
You are reading this. I wrote these words, this is my job. A writer: which means the one who writes. Even Steven?
Aren't we all from here?
My genes predestined my appearance to be Caucasian.
I am multilingual.
Probably, because I look human.
Yes, I'm glad you know my brother.
Yes, I'm glad you know the rest of my family.
I am taking the time to, actually, talk to you. Even though you are a stranger, and I am a stranger, I do not talk to strangers but since you made the effort... you've reaped what you've sowed. Honest Abe.
Who am I? God's creation. I was made in heaven.
If you only looked deeper into my eyes, then, you would have seen my soul.
The inner child's innocence that is pure and pristine.
However, you missed that, but then again, you are in my thoughts as I say a little prayer for you.
An afterthought:
A Good Samaritan is a Stranger who is moved to do random genuine acts of kindnesses by the Unmoved.
Lest we forget our father and mother, metaphorically, were strangers in the night exchanging glances, then, fell in love. Credit to Mr. Frank Sinatra.
License: (license)
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