Thursday, December 23

Hello, stranger.


When does exactly a stranger stops becoming a stranger? Is it after a shared drink and few thoughtless conversations about ephemeral current events infront of an awkward bartender? Or after a candid mistake of smiling at a snotty baby in a crib which told the mom everything was not a mere coincidence? Or after the creaking sound of a rundown bed stopped by the consolation of a one night stand in a dingy motel room?

Credits: The Blower's Daughter by Damien Rice, from Closer, because the pedestrian with strangers are mad mental exercise for unhurried feelings of loneliness and exclusion.
Someone said before: "Everytime I go to Shibuya, I fall in love with a stanger." So this is Shibuya.


Barbara said...

lovely photos...

listea said...

It all happens naturally, it starts by sharing some warm greeting each other, I think.

Anyway, I love the photos! I'm wondering when I can take such great photos :)

mettomot said...

I'm one of your strangers who loves reading your blog that's what I want to tell you.