Opia

"So much can be said in a glance.

Such ambiguous intensity, both invasive and vulnerable; glittering black, bottomless and opaque. The eye is a keyhole, through which the world pours in and a world spills out.

And for a few seconds, you can peek through into a vault, that contains everything they are. But whether the eyes are the windows of the soul or the doors of perception, it doesn’t matter; you’re still standing on the outside of the house.

Eye contact isn’t really contact at all. It’s only ever a glance, a near miss, that you can only feel as it slips past you. There’s so much we keep in the back room. We offer up a sample of who we are, of what we think people want us to be.

But so rarely do we stop to look inside, and let our eyes adjust, and see what’s really there. Because you too are peering out from behind your own door. You put yourself out there, trying to decide how much of the world to let in.

It’s all too easy for others to size you up, and carry on their way. They can see you more clearly than you ever could. And yours is the only vault you can’t see into, that you can’t size up in an instant.

So we’re all just exchanging glances, trying to tell each other who we are, trying to catch a glimpse of ourselves, feeling around in the darkness."

Till we meed Dad...