A Clearing

One day, on my way home, I found myself at a major interchange. I needed to reach the other side, so I headed for the crosswalk. When the light turned green, I began crossing without giving much thought to the eleven or so soldiers approaching from the opposite direction, happily munching on shawarma wrapped in pita—their lunch, most likely. Then, seemingly unaware, they formed a human wall that blocked the entire width of the crosswalk.

With no time to go around, I found myself shaping my hands into an arrow and penetrating through their formation.

Consumed with thoughts about this act of penetration, I heard a cry behind me. Turning, I saw that one of the soldiers had stopped in the middle of the street. He looked up from his fallen shawarma to watch his group continue walking, the gap he'd left already seamlessly closed.

I thought I caught something in his eyes—the precise moment of transition from component to whole, from being part of something to being utterly alone.

 

The traffic light turned green.