The Spaces Between Your Fingers

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We intersect and intercept each other's lives on a daily basis; soft, invisible, social-membranes ebbing and flowing, accepting and rejecting, connecting and interacting. Every person we now know so well started off, even if for the briefest moment, a stranger.<br />
<br />
The only missed chances of relating are often the chances untaken. A simple letter to a person whom I could have met, may have met, in another time, when mid-moment, I would have asked the questions questioned within my mind.

Our eyes caught for a moment.

A brief moment.

That sort of moment that freezes mid-step, like those rare occasions with the sun refracting between newly sprung spring leaves on your walk home, light shimmering and dancing on those buoyant branches, showering that rare magic hour delight.

It was in that moment when you glanced over and I happened to be peering up from my coffee cup.

The moment stuck mid-beat even as the beat of my pulse quickened.

Do you recall that moment?
The one right before you made towards the corner table, the table facing the dark cobblestone streets complementing the textured swirls of coffee intercepting our mili-fraction gaze.

You were with an elderly British woman that evening, and with a colleague
—or perhaps a friend—
with your lined-and-bound notebook, tan sweater and bangs hovering softly above your eyes.

I imagined what it would be like to interrupt you, your guests, the interview you were conducting.

To start a conversation.
To ask you where you were from.
What you were working on.
If you wanted to meet for coffee in another time, a different place.
If you wanted to, for a minor moment, leave the busyness of that particular point intersecting us in our different worlds.

That moment's gone.
A breath taken flight upon smooth glass on a frosty morning.
Evaporated.

But, what do you say?
Would you like to go on an interview?
Over coffee?
Both of us able to freeze mid-frame for a bit longer than a moment?
In the right place?
At the right time?

Mid-Moment

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Philadelphia, PA

We intersect and intercept each other's lives on a daily basis; soft, invisible, social-membranes ebbing and flowing, accepting and rejecting, connecting and interacting. Every person we now know so well started off, even if for the briefest moment, a stranger.

The only missed chances of relating are often the chances untaken. A simple letter to a person whom I could have met, may have met, in another time, when mid-moment, I would have asked the questions questioned within my mind.

Decade: 2010s
Rating: 1
Recorded by Phillip Le on March 21, 2014
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