Intimacy

One of the most bizarre elements of urban living is the intimate ways in which you become connected to complete strangers.

I don't know my neighbor's name, but I know what he watches on TV each night, why he and his girlfriend had their last fight, and how long it took them to make up.

I've never introduced myself to the girl down the hall, but I know that she washes more underwear each week than I do in a month.

I wouldn't recognize my downstairs neighbors if I saw them on the street, but I know the details of the heart-to-heart conversations that they have on their balcony late at night.

No doubt these people have collected similar bits of information about me.

Last night, a group of people on our end of the block began singing loudly around midnight. I didn't really listen to the song, just went on about my buiness, and after ten or fifteen minutes people began to yell for quiet from various apartments. The sound persisted. When I walked out on my balcony to see what all the fuss was about, I heard the latest cry for silence die incomplete on anonymous lips. I listened curiously and realized what everyone else just had - the song was one of mourning.

For a flash of a moment, hundreds of strangers grieved along with those who were singing. The song went on for hours, but there were no more screams for quiet... just the repeated slide and click of doors and windows closing as we tried to leave them alone with their sadness.

Comments

[Teece]

beautiful..

both the moment,
and the words you have used to capture it.

[Two Dishes]

Great lead in and then the punchline of the story.

[Neil]

What an unusual moment. Everyone is so used to inconsiderate neighbors that it must have been a shock for everyone to actually care for the unseen mourners. It's nice that you felt the moment.