I look through my own grid, and I’m not sure how to see any differently.
I know just how you feel!–well, not really. I can imagine walking in your shoes, but truth is, I don’t. I can imagine feeling what you feel, but truth is . . .
Small wonder we feel the separation. Together alone.
And the warm, friendly unity is an out-there goal, a fragile hope, but until I am you, I will never know just how you feel–or in truth, feel your pain. How shallow that sounds.
I feel my own deeply, and I only see yours through mine, so it is arrogant to say I understand when I can but approximate;
it is probably wrong for you to say the same. Together apart.
Maybe alienation is part of the hunger and thirsting for things to be as they were meant to be. Together.