[The woman. Photo is mine.]

All the lonely people

Where do they all come from?

All the lonely people

Where do they all belong?

–Lennon/McCartney “Eleanor Rigby”

I am sitting in a small corner bar in Porto, Portugal watching the people scurry across the wet plaza of the University. I focus on a certain woman. See the way she strides with confidence, wholly owning her poise.

A fog has fallen on the city, lending an air of mystery. I try to read her thoughts. Somehow I feel that she is certain that at the next corner she will find her partner. Perhaps not this particular corner or even this year, but she knows that her lover is somewhere in her future.

She fades into the fog.

I look at others. Some I know are convinced that they are destined to be alone. These are the outliers I’m truly interested in.

For every Taylor Swift or Lady Ga Ga, there are twenty million females who know they don’t measure up to such a standard of ‘perfection’. This applies to males as well. Most men know they are not George Clooney.

Yes, it’s the fringe that interest me the most. Those souls who know in their hearts that they are destined to never share a pillow, hold hands in a park on a warm afternoon in July…or even to mourn a lost loved one.

My heart breaks for the lonely people that walk through the fog at night.

[Note: Today, March 1 is my brother’s birthday. He would have turned 75 years old.]