
I can see it in certain people. Its just a way they talk... the sort of questions they ask. In fact, the questions mean alot. Too many people question nothing...
Its in the way they carry themselves. Not just one way, but a myriad of ways... each unique to thier style. Thier clothes, thier tastes... they way they smoke thier cigarette. Comments they make... the way they speak.
I can see it in the way they do thier makeup, or the way they hold thier hands at a table. What they fiddle with in silence. I can see it when they stop talking, and when they take a sip of thier drink.
All of them are the same thing, come from the same world. They might be manifest differently, but we all relate on one basic level. One simple fundamental, that thing that brings us together and creates brilliant situations. My favorite kind of people, the ones i long to meet and interact with...
I'm not really sure what to call them, since no one word is right. Its just... there, inside them. it can be brief, subtle. Like the minor disturbances in an otherwise perfect strand of smoke. Painters, musicians, writers, designers, philosophers...
People who create. Who build. Who think. People who wonder why everything is the way it is.
Some try to fake it, to fake the inspiration. To fake the insatiable need to create... some confuse it with thier own pride, thier envy, thier lust, thier fear...
But it cannot be masked, nor can it be feined.
My people, my little world... Our strange and beautiful muse. Though everyone could create, and in essence we all do, there are those who live to do so.
Those who devote thier lives to it. Those who are passionate...
Those with inspiration.
I seek a different kind of person. A different kind of idea. And they are out there... there is no more exciting and satisfying thing than to find another.