What the man sitting across from me must be thinking:

The asian woman eating an expensive looking salad, the fat man daydreaming about cake and childhood, the mother swinging her baby around like a little doll, a doll that she calls crazy, and also another fat man that grabs at his crotch or somewhere near it, wherever that is. What is it that makes me imagine these people as ultimately weak and frightened, regardless of their apparent wealth, happiness or meaningful existence? Am I myself so frightened that I project this state of being onto others, or am I so incredibly frightened that I am acutely aware of people's inherent fragility and fear. The elaborately detailed ceremonial robe, everyone wears one, even a baby, or an Asian woman, and despite the robe's many layers, I can only see one of them--the miserable and depressing one. I realize that it's an odd fascination, and maybe not even a fascination, because doesn't fascination imply desire? Maybe not... However, my obsession seems to be just that, an obsession, that is, a spiritual impediment, mental blinders that fail to keep me on track. Even if I wanted to view the individual members of society as being comfortable with themselves, would I be able to?

In the airport, a baby crawls near my feet, and I can't help but think that if he could understand my point of view, he too would pray that he fall asleep and not wake up.