We were standing around at the work on day, (it was slow) and we started to talk about hobbies. One guy, (the quiet one) collected guns. Betty said she collected salt & pepper shakers. When she asked me what I collected I told her “dust”. She didn’t get it. I mean, I couldn’t just tell her what I really collected.

Eyes.

No, it’s not glass eyes or wooden eyes. It’s the eyes of others. Men. Women. Little children. Animals. I don’t keep them, I just…borrow them. I stop for a moment and try to see the world through their eyes just the way they’re seeing it.  From the mouse’s view of the underside of the table to my dog’s color free view of TV.

I can close MY eyes and sudden I’m a bird. Far far up in the sky. Looking down at the bustle and rush of the city below me. Looking down the side of a skyscraper like it was a street into the eyes of a little boy looking up at me. I jump into his eyes looking up at the bird overhead as it flies out of sight. The little boy turns to look for his mother and not being able to find her starts to cry. A woman comes rushing up and I move from looking up up up into her face to looking down and feeling a mix of angry/fear/relief at having found my lost little boy.

Jumping next into the eyes of the traffic cop watching the play from the middle of the road to the eyes of the driver, seeing too late the cop in front of him. From one to another I go on and on, seeing life, others, the world and even, myself though the eyes of others.