What do I want to remember best when I end this phase of my life? Impressions. Faces, I remember well but impressions even better. Think of it as a canvas and each interaction an imprint - be it a splash, a streak or just a squiggle - and when the collection of souls collide as atoms do the imprints become prints upon prints upon prints. Much like the secret paintings of the great masters; what lies below may just influence what's shown. Impressions. The gentle pressure of first contact. The collective vibe of camaraderie. The inquisitive poking around. The little moments of micro-reactions. The subtle shifts in tone. The multi-coloured tapestries of personalities that clash and complement. The curious actions to initiate reactions. The occasional unexpectedness that changes dynamics.
This semester, the canvas still feels strangely clear and I'm still coming to grips with this odd sense of urgency to spend as much time as possible with people. Family, friends, acquaintances, people. Just. People. Each semester, curiosity would take me off the tracks once every so often and there'd be people who fascinated, inspired, intrigued - if only for a little while. The passerby I saw myself in with her nose buried in a book as the world made way for her as she walked. The salesman with a uncommon name and a lovely voice. The half stranger with unusual charm who stole kisses on semi-moonlit semi-rooftops. The cancer scientist who exuded an unusually familiar vibe that I couldn't place my finger upon. The lovely group of girls selling pre-loved clothes who became shopping advisors. And the many with whom I had mental conversations with because I didn't think it appropriate to approach (and regretted later on).
The canvas is strangely clear this semester, but I've got till year end to fill it up and hey, it probably will.
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