Somewhere, a girl sits down in the middle of the free way overpass. She looks at the cars below, passing so quickly beneath her. Going back to their lives that beckon them home every 8 o'clock. She sits and watches them and feels small and dangerous. Small because she is in the midst of a sea of multitudes of moving people. Dangerous because if the overpass were to crumble, or if the fencing on the sides were to collapse, then her body, now pressed against the mesh wire, would be crushed beneath the multitude that at this moment she was so in awe of. She watches the cars go by in the quiet of the becoming of evening and notices a burgundy '63 Camaro pass below her, impressed at the fact that she can identify its year. And then she blinks and it is gone, and she doesn't give it a second thought, not knowing that 12 more miles down the way and the Camaro would have a fatal head on collision with a car spinning out of control. And at the same time, somewhere a woman with flying hair of wild curly-cues would ride a bicycle to the post office, singing loudly and not caring if anyone stares. And earlier that day, the strongest boy got kicked off the football team, which was all that he ever really looked forward to, and he cried. And a grandmother baked herself a cake. And a little kid fell off a bicycle and skinned a knee. And a girl left her house and held her tears inside to walk up a busy street at night and hope that someone would take her away...While at the same time another girl cried because she had a g.p.a. of only 3.17, and what was she going to do, and the fact that she couldn't get drunk earlier that day like she planned. And a man loses his job and jumps off a bridge. And a girl gets beat up again, but still waits for something better, even though she doesn't have any proof except for her father's unspoken word. And another girl hears too many screams coming from the other room, and no matter who they are directed to, believes that they are meant for her, and grabs a knife to make herself hurt with the pain she is so used to deserving. And a little kid somewhere sings nursery rhymes with a grandmother, and a kid somewhere else isn't allowed to sing or to believe. And somewhere, someone stares out a window and wonders if anyone could see inside, or if anyone would want to. And someone else is feeling complete. A boy is smiling, because after playing on so many girls, he has just found someone he could give his heart to entirely, even though he doesn't know that she is really using him to get to his best friend. And somebody's sister is shot in the streets by a stray bullet, aimed at her cousin. Somewhere, someone hurts for forgotten silences and forgotten dreams, while somebody else is out trying to change the world. An old woman smells a flower for the first time in forty years, remembering how when she was a child she promised never to forget. And a man sits on a chair singing a song under a window, in front of a garage - which is maybe his, maybe not - and he stares through every passerby, through the cars, through the chipping paint houses across the street, until the galaxy has folded away into a tiny box. And someone he didn't see remembers him and wonders if he is still singing. While that night in bed, a five year old is wondering why after a day of swimming in the marina, could she still feel the slippery rocks under her feet. All the people. All the pained people, all the happy people, all the normal people that really aren't so normal at all. All the people who no one may even look at, or look through, like the singing man that sings to eternity. All the people who are in the wrong places at the wrong times, or those that wonder inside themselves, or that are crying out for help without a word. Those that hide what they are for fear of being known, or that quietly wait for someone to notice. Or those that enjoy the simple things and are okay. All the people that are happy to do their laundry on their lunch breaks and come home to a bottle of Corona and Hawaiian chips. The people who take the time, and know there's something more. And those that don't. No one takes the time to know. No one takes the time to see people.