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I am most recently fascinated by eyes. Not because they come in a variety of shapes, sizes and colors. Not because they’re the first feature on the opposite sex to catch my attention (actually that would be the smile). But because it amazes me to think of everything these two smushy grape-like things on my face have SEEN.

Look into my eyes

Look into my eyes (Photo credit: Look Into My Eyes)

As we grow older most of us change a lot. Physically of course we become, at the very least, taller than our baby selves. But along with this our beliefs shift, our outlooks on life adjust themselves and new experiences give rise to new ambitions. As time passes, we may forget certain obstacles or victories, joys and griefs are mitigated and memories fade.

But my eyes. They have seen it all regardless of whether or not my brain can recall it. They’ve borne witness to beauty, horror, shame, sorrow as each took its place in my life; but also to the surrounding life and landscape around me at each of these times. It is incredible how much they are constantly bombarded with, and how much they look at that my mind doesn’t even bother to [or can’t manage to] process.

And then these eyes look into others’ eyes and begin to wonder where they’ve been as well. Perhaps eyes have their own way of communicating the visions they’ve laid upon. Perhaps exchanged glances are really exchanged flashes of life’s ups, downs and arounds. Perhaps this happens all the time and is the reason why eyes are almost magnetically drawn to each other without the mind even comprehending that such an intimate exchange is taking place.

Perhaps.

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