alone in a crowd of people.

When you are in the middle of a foreign country, you observe more with your eyes than your ears. 

Instead of listening to understand, you watch. 

Facial features, hand gestures, and nervous bounces of the right foot, 

become the connection of emotion between 

you and those 

you are 

observing. 

I sit in the library terrace,

  surrounded by unfamiliar faces. 

I cannot read the posters on the information board. 

I cannot understand when someone asks if they my use the empty chair next to me.

 Although I can be seen, 

I feel invisible. 

It is a strange sensation being alone here. 

I long to sit at a table with friends, to communicate, to learn, to share ideas, to laugh. 

I am quiet, shy, and observant. 

I notice the details in the way people converse. 

The way the

 lips 

purse together while arguing. 

The way the 

eyes

 light up when laughing. 

I begin to question the stories of each person more than I do at home. 

I imagine their life, their dreams, how they got here and where they will go 

once they leave. 

I wonder 

if 

people are doing the same to me. 

Do they watch me knowing I am American. Can they tell because of how I am dressed? My hair color and skin tones? The expression on my face? 

Or do they see passed me.