Our shattered pieces litter lives, spread across an ocean of uncertainty. Driven by doubt, doubling as derived meaning of forgotten fantasies. The fundamental fallacy of dreaming that shear will could pull us from our wonderings, bring us to a home that never existed.
We who are lost, search. We who wonder, floating among a sea of humanity. Maybe we meet, and yet we are as alien to each other as we are to the other creatures that surround us. And yet, we know the other, by his otherness. A stranger knows a stranger. Another stranger in a stranger land.
When you meet another Lost One, reach out. Communicate between your alien worlds in a language of signs and colours. Embraces the other’s Otherness. Neither will ever understand the other – maybe you will capture an outline, a shape, a texture. But an embrace: that says “I too, am lost. I too am searching. In that, we are never alone”.