daymare

Isn’t it strange to sit at an airport knowing that you might have come across more people than you ever will in your life in just a few hours
How many faces would you remember though, when you’re not busy taking pictures of yourself, your possessions, your things, or talking to your friends, your families, ones whom you already knew and would never really leave
How many names would you hear and amongst those you did have you ever thought that someday you will name your children so, or if you even
realized that in those noises of the crowds there were a thousand languages being spoken, both out loud and in their heads, some of them don’t even have names
and if so how many names have you missed, but will they still make it into your subconsciousness
because one of these days you will dream a little dream and there will be strangers whom you don’t recall meeting and they will tell you they love you in their language
but you will scream because you thought they want you dead
that could work, too.