Do you love strangers like I do? No, not the busy ones. But the slow and silent ones. The ones with a thousand stories in their eyes. The stories that I wish I could read. At times melancholic, otherwise vibrant. The stories they long to share. Maybe, maybe not. You never know. I stand there, eyes and heart open, trying to listen to that story lost in those numerous layers of deceptions and lies. Strange Love! You may say. But you and me maybe someone else’s stories.