"All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players: They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. "
- William Shakespeare, As You Like It
The idea of things happening by 'chance' is an amazing concept. It can lead to things you would never have dreamt of.
Last week, as i was walking past him i happened to glance over my shoulder by chance. And i saw a blogger posting page open. Hmm, i thought. Next thing i knew, i was surreptitiously checking out the blog, the name of which i saw by chance on his PC.
I read it, and didn't really form an opinion. When i visited the blog again today, i rationalised the reason as one of finding out something more about him. (We met yesterday, by chance.)
I didn't find something more. No siree, i didn't. I just found plenty more.
A virtual open page that his life is. And an intimate, intimate affair (or should i say, friendship?) with a woman (or stranger?) stripped of the bed covers it must have been conceived in, laid out naked for the world to see. It seemed to have been an emotional phase in their lives - the only thing vulgar about it was my encroachment into their virtual private space (if there's anything of the sort), an Internet Voyeur. I'm ashamed of my act now, because i can see how deep the waters must have run on both sides. It was so... ambiguous, and yet the ambiguity was the very thing that tugged at the heartstrings.
I realised then that he is such a different man for eight (or more) hours every day, a mask covering his face.
There is so much more to him than what i, and perhaps a lot of others, see.
There is so much depth to his character that it scares me. I don't think i want to have anything to do with him.
- William Shakespeare, As You Like It
The idea of things happening by 'chance' is an amazing concept. It can lead to things you would never have dreamt of.
Last week, as i was walking past him i happened to glance over my shoulder by chance. And i saw a blogger posting page open. Hmm, i thought. Next thing i knew, i was surreptitiously checking out the blog, the name of which i saw by chance on his PC.
I read it, and didn't really form an opinion. When i visited the blog again today, i rationalised the reason as one of finding out something more about him. (We met yesterday, by chance.)
I didn't find something more. No siree, i didn't. I just found plenty more.
A virtual open page that his life is. And an intimate, intimate affair (or should i say, friendship?) with a woman (or stranger?) stripped of the bed covers it must have been conceived in, laid out naked for the world to see. It seemed to have been an emotional phase in their lives - the only thing vulgar about it was my encroachment into their virtual private space (if there's anything of the sort), an Internet Voyeur. I'm ashamed of my act now, because i can see how deep the waters must have run on both sides. It was so... ambiguous, and yet the ambiguity was the very thing that tugged at the heartstrings.
I realised then that he is such a different man for eight (or more) hours every day, a mask covering his face.
There is so much more to him than what i, and perhaps a lot of others, see.
There is so much depth to his character that it scares me. I don't think i want to have anything to do with him.
1 comment:
And perhaps that is what the power of anonimity does I suppose. Long live the Internet??
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