The space between strangers is tangible.
Like a wall of cement blocks
That you can feel each crevice of every grain poured at the foundry.
And who are you to break it?
What makes you so deserving?
To take away from this person’s time spent in their brain
Thinking about their lover
Or their job
Or what to eat for lunch.
Who are you to break that wall with a sledgehammer of a question?
They can always build it up once again if you break it
But why have to rebuild when it’s already built?
Is it worth it?
If you do choose to break it
And they don’t ready their troops at their border
The insight, the knowledge, the experience
It’s not about the action of swinging
It’s about the way in which you do so.
Break that block just perfectly, and you get a masterpiece.
It’s at your discretion.
Frankfurt. 9:09 AM