I admit, I am a thief. But not the kind you'd think. I don't steal jewels, money, or prized possessions. The things I steal are things that cannot be held. Fragile fleeting things that are taken for granted and seldom kept hidden or under lock and key.
I steal moments.
Precious moments.
I'm a people watcher.
I can be found on park benches, in far corners of rooms, or in hallways, watching the world around me in eternal wonderment. I steal glances, facial expressions, subconscious hand gestures, looks of love and fear. I steal the moments that hang amidst human interaction. Human connection. These moments are moments I hold to be some of the purest moments we have. Moments so pure that, unless you're looking for them, feeling them, slip by unnoticed among expended air.
As I watch, I wonder. I build stories in my head about the moments I steal. About the people I steal them from. Why certain moments happen. Why some don't. I am forever amazed at these moments. Both the simplest and the most complex of things. Moments so simple that few take notice, and things so complex that these moments weave themselves seamlessly into every conversation we have.
For every moment I steal, a sensation of connection overcomes me. A knowing feeling that, despite all that is wrong with the world, we're all in this together.
And life goes on.
