Psychic Windows
Recently, I realized that I do something other people don't seem to do. On a plane, in a store, walking down the street—I always imagine stories to go with the people I see. Based on their bodies or their faces, I picture them involved in various things. I was looking at this young man the other day, and I suddenly saw him furiously angry about something. His face was completely distorted with rage. It looked like this was the angriest he had ever been. He was dragging something with his right hand, too—something red, like a canoe. I realized that this was not just a story I was imagining about this person, but something I actually saw in them. This wasn’t imagination, but some kind of psychic window I was looking through. Now I’ve started to keep track of these windows I see through from time to time.
