how i feel when sticking my head outside the window. maybe i just need to get out more often

Nights like this, you feel the earth's potential, the fact that outside your little bubble of comfy backyards there is a swarm of people who all have different worldviews and situations. Sonder is the word, I think, and it means that somewhere opposite of where you are, on a little backstreet in a quiet brick and stone English village next to a florists' down a little lane there is a house with willow trees choking it up and an old lady lives there with her passionate nostalgia and  it's a little muddy misty lane and the windows are fogged up 

and somewhere else in a teeny apartment a woman with cheap jewellery who has never really known a really comfortable life like yours, whose little bubble world is not inclusive of hours of pleasurable internet browsing, who only knows love as an abuse, lives - reading, reading is her pleasure, her passion, with crossed legs on a little couch and the apartment is the kind that you don't think smells very good when you walk in and the curtains are out of date and her whole world is trying to make her struggle worth it without even knowing it and she's in dull pain but she just loves to read and she sits with her back against orange  patterned curtains in front of a little boxy tv and waits for someone she doesn't really like to come home and makes pasta with one hand on a book

and somewhere else there's a really cold flat desert and what actually is a television? and life is lighting fire in the cold and she is human too, just as human as you but her world is a different planet earth and she is not someone who should be worried about social issues; she is a social issue, but she's happy getting an iron pail up from the well with frozen fingers and her jokes are simple and she shares a tent with her brothers and they tell ghost stories about wolves while buried under rugs and she exists outside your planet earth.

and there is a beautiful woman in london with a short skirt walking up the midnight street from Harrod's with shopping bags, chatting on a cellphone, red lipstick flashing in the city lights and she soaks in the joy of being  alive while the cars rush around her and busses  cough smoke and architecture is smogged and little does she know later on in the evening her boyfriend will pull out a diamond ring in an indian food restaurant with puppets on the ceiling and she will say yes and they'll kiss on the top level of an empty red bus as it heads home and

there are lots of lives and none of them has anything to do with yours.