Hands. And Hearts.

I was in the park today, trying to find people. I am not quite sure what I mean about this. In fact, I am not sure why I do it either. Why I walk around with my camera. Why I try to find these people.

Still I do it. Again and again and again. I point my lens here and there and everywhere.
And the more I do it, the more I realize my drives. What keeps me going.

People.
People.
People.

Those I know.
Those I do not know.

They have intrigued me from the day I understood there was an I. And that everyone is an I. We are separate. As we are one. When I see another person, I see myself. When I see myself, I see the other.

So I try to see. The faces. The feet. The knees. The elbows. The cheeks. The eyes.

The hands.

For when I see the faces, the feet, the fingers, I try to see beyond them. I try to see what they express. I try to see what drives them.

I try to see the hearts.