Have you ever stumbled upon a moment that is not yours? An encounter or action seen from a distance yet it pulls you in. Time slows its pace and details suddenly flash in vivid color and sound. You notice everything.
And in the moment of clarity, you understand that the moment belongs to another. What you feel is in reaction to their true experience. A copy like chiseled marble that resembles skin for no matter the effort and mastery of the artist, it will never be soft or warm to the touch.
So the moment fades, and normal life resumes at its steady pace, living you standing there breathless from the effort you endured to capture something so wonderful yet fleeting.
I saw a man once, running in the rain. Every third or fifth step he erupted in the air, dancing. His wet face seemed to glow in happiness, his laughter in the rain like a songbird in spring. I knew nothing of where he was going or where he had been, yet my mind raced to understand the moment. To understand what could have happened, what I could do to share in his experience.
In another moment he was gone, turned a corner, leaving me to soak on the other side of the road, forever to ponder on a moment that I stumbled upon, it secrets washed away in the warm showers of summer.