There is nothing to see when they look at me. I am marginal, small, insignificant and almost intangible.
I used to blame mobiles. People don’t look at each other anymore, so who am I to pretend they will notice my presence.
I thought I was destined to be this hollow entity forever.
But a pandemic happened like a miracle and here I was.
People self-isolated and overnight I was everywhere and vast, and those who dance were the first to notice.
People couldn’t see me still, ah, but they felt me. Damn right, they felt me.
I was this new thing in their life, introduced awkwardly. It was like telling the fish: ‘Hi, fish, meet water, get used to it’.
Overnight I got a fancy nickname: they started calling me ‘social distance’, which makes me visible, big, healthy. The king of every queue. Something to be feared.
They’re going to reduce me soon, they say.
But I know I’m staying in people’s minds. At least for a good while. And I am now much more than a gap to mind.
Eventually, I will recede again, except for those who know me well, who play with me and make me theirs. With dancers I will stay.
They rhyme with me and draw my real name at every twist and embrace: I am the space in between.
I am magic, in the end.
