25

I like seeing that some individual from Canada keeps going back over a blog post, and another from America seems to check on the same story, each day.
I like seeing that some stranger from Singapore has inadvertently clicked a link.
I like seeing that 20% are Google chrome users, and another 70%; Mozilla Firefox.
I like seeing that blue strike running upwards, just ahead of the creation date.
I like the fact four Americans will have read post 12, and another three have read 07.
I like to think, rather than that, that one person just keeps going back to the same story.
I like the fact a stranger loves my music, and decides to subscribe to me for it.
I like the fact strangers have liked it on Facebook, and I can never find out their names.
I like the phrase "Perfect." when left on it's own.
When it's meant.
When no smiley faces adorn it, and it stands alone.
I like the poignance of some words.
I like how, even though they are abused, even though they are overused, their meaning can be found once again, with just the  right string of words.
I like how a stranger doesn't lie.
How they don't need to waste time, pretending they like your work.
How they'll tell you if they do, and they won't if they don't.
I like the way strangers eyes are so magnetic, so indecipherable.
I like the way they have no demands, no expectations, no constricting opinions, and care so little.
I like that.
I like how you do not rely on strangers, and they in turn do not rely on you.
There is that trust. That rust not to trust each other.
I like that, it's certainty and it's solidity.
I like how a stranger doesn't know how you laugh when you're lying, how your hands fumble, how your words fall when you grow introverted.
I like how a stranger has nothing but to take you, for all that you are, rather than expect more, rather than place you in that hideous place of pedestal and grandeur.
I like how the stranger desires nothing from you of mind, only of body.
I like how they lean forward when you tell them you've loved this band forever.
I like their reaction when they realize you're not as dull as they're expectations had prepared them for.
I like the strangers that maintain that mystery, and yet intrigue with each select word they utter.
I like how a stranger will momentarily cease to conceal their identiy.
How their smile will falter as you smile in return, and tell them that movie you adore, that song you grew up to, that night you'll never forget.
I like how they stop looking at you like they had, in that second of understanding, and see a person behind the facade of mysterious stranger.
I like how their face changes, and soon you begin to speak to a human, rather than an idea.
I like how the mystery still enstilled within them, and in you, perfects the line of opinions.
How the intrigue of this person merges with the removal of their defense, and for a brief moment; you have met the most exciting person on earth.
The fact that you do not in fact know them, is the preservation of their perfection.
They could be anything now. Anyone.
Maybe they have other movies in common too?
Maybe they love that song aswell?
Maybe they think similarly?
Maybe, just maybe, this is the perfect stranger, who will grow to be the perfect person you were fortunate enough to meet.
I love how this is never true.
I like how you'll catch them sneering at a passer by, flinching for something you said, grinding their teeth in an anxious manner of distress, confessing an all too raw truth, breaking the lines of the perfect stranger with one hand gesture too close, one smile too sly, one word too cold.
I like how this happens, each time.
I like how the perfect strangers exist, but the perfect people do not.
I like the imperfect people.
No. I love the imperfect people.
I love the fact they become part of life, rather than immaculately constructed opinion of a strangers first words.

I like the strangers that never spoke, most of all.
The ones that you crossed paths with once, and remembered because of a muddy shoe, a bright bag, a nondescript tattoo.
I like them most because they seem the most human, and the most painless.
They are the ones of which you complete and utterly can let "be."
These are the people you will never know, and who will never know you.
These are the perfect strangers.
The ones who could haunt you, with just one lingering glance.