i wonder how many strangers, have taken me home in photographs. me, crossing behind their birthday dinner, half a face in somebody’s graduation, waiting for a light to change, while two people behind me were falling in love. maybe i’m framed on a wall somewhere, blurred behind a family that has since become larger. maybe someone has looked at that picture a thousand times and never once looked at me. that’s the strange part i feel i could have been standing, three feet from the moment, someone would spend their whole life remembering, and to me, it was just a place i was passing through. ~shreeraj