Why?

The challenge with writing is that it feels almost impossible to describe the tiny tiny everyday miracles. The whooshing of a bicycle past you as you’re walking through a crowd with headphones covering your ears. The laughter that bubbles up inside you because of the wonderful synchronicity of it all. And the fact that no-one else seems to be aware of that they are part of this beautiful, beautiful machinery. All moving in cohesion, to the music that flows out from your headphones and into you. It seems as if it should be obvious, but everyone seems to be caught up in hurrying to the train, eyeing through their papers, chatting with the individual next to them – It strikes you as incredible that you are alone, all alone in the world, for that one split second, when everything is so perfectly connected. And you can’t help but laugh quietly, because you have no choice, because it is all so wonderful and so terrible all at once. Because you are all alone, while the world rushes past around you.

There's a woman crossing the street just outside my window.
I wonder if she knows she's being watched? It's almost like stealing.