Touch Part 2

I've been walking around at night, just before the sun goes down. I put my head back, take deep breaths of air that smells of Linden trees and roses. I notice the way the light trickles through the leaves like water, tiny drops of water, leaking through and onto the sidewalk. I'm alone on these nights, aside from an occasional biker. I had forgotten what it feels like to be alone, to not be surrounded by people. I miss Korea for this reason. In Korea, I was never alone, surrounded by an army of strangers. There is comfort in that, in the faces of strangers all riding the same subway, all walking the same direction. There is connection in the way bodies touch out of closeness, a brush of the arm as they walk past you on the street or press into you as they sit next to you on the subway.

I used to find it strange when I was walking in Korea with few people around and someone coming from the opposite direction would automatically walk towards me in order to pass me while almost touching, as if just trying to feel a connection to another person. There was never awkwardness in this movement, no apologies. I miss that movement. I am awkward and avoid touch here, in this place I call home.