The waiting area was crowded. It smelled of beings in close proximity to one another for a time longer than decency permits. Into this mix I entered, tired from a long journey to the airport.
Walking past a pair of Russian gentlemen, a young man with the blackest hair I've ever seen, and a woman who seemed to emit a sense of well-being, I found a seat.
It was not empty, but occupied by a young child leaning upon his mother's shoulder. To call it a Madonna and child scene would be a stretch, but it was a touching picture of human love.
I sat above the boys head, barely touching the wisps of ashen brown locks that swirled atop his head like the twist of a Dairy Queen vanilla softie. He didn't feel me, nor hear me, neither did his mother, for thoughts are never seen, or felt, yet we are everywhere.
We walk on cerebral feet, never leaving an imprint or sound. We brush against humanity and are never felt. We can enter anything, anywhere, anytime. Our domain is the universe. The only area we cannot enter is a closed mind.
As I was sitting above this young man, I was joined by his thoughts. We had a lovely conversation.