Strangers

It’s strange: I’ve forgotten the names of nearly everyone I once knew—those I shared brief moments in time with—but some names never seem to leave me, no matter how hard I try.

How strange that we so quickly become just dust to those that once knew us—forgotten, totally forgotten, obliterated from their mind. How quickly we become nobodies, irrelevant and lost.

O soul: be content with your lot, embraced by the few: your wife, your children and your parents. That is the way of the world. All of us: just strangers passing through, here today, gone tomorrow, lost in the changing of the tides.

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