Everything is grey and we are all alone.

The concrete jungles where we compete for our lives in are grey. The roads where we walk our paths of life on are grey. Dull and grey. The sky is grey and people’s faces are grey. The rumble of the city is grey and never silent, and it is ugly. Nobody smiles and we are all alone.

I look up and everyone is looking down, so I look down too. And I stay looking down at the grey floor beneath my grey feet and I don’t smile.

I do the same grey things every grey day, and I do them alone.

But one day I looked up and was caught off guard. I looked up and he smiled. He smiled at me and I stared back.

I look down and up again, and still he smiled. So I smiled back. I looked around and I saw others looking up, and I saw them smiling too.

I saw the vibrant colour of shop fronts with colourful items in their windows. I saw our roads stand strong under the people’s colourfol feet as they skipped through life. And they didn’t skip alone, they skipped together. Their faces weren’t grey, they emitted an effervescent glow that shone all around. Leaves are green and bark is brown. I squinted and saw the sky was blue... was anything grey? I listened carefully and heard the cities sounds come together in the swell of a symphony. It was never silent, and it was beautiful.

Not everything was grey, I had just been missing the colour. I had been too busy looking down.

I’d been so busy looking down, I never noticed everyone else was looking up, and they had been looking up at the wonderful colourful world together. Did they ever look down? Or did I just think they were?

He looked at me and smiled; and I was never alone again.

And I realised I never was.

When I look at the stars, the sunset, the ocean. When I gaze upon the mountain range towering in front of my wide eyes. When the moon softly shines on my smiling face. I feel at peace.

When I feel the breeze on my skin, the grass beneath my bare feet thick between my toes. The tickle in my nose in a dusty room, the drops of rain colliding with my body during a storm. I feel alive.

When I watch lovers play in a busy park, their laughter singing whilst birds fly above them. When I dance, with friends, with strangers, with myself. When I embrace my partner and fall into dreamy slumber. I feel love.

When I think about my experiences, and the world around me. I realise, we have so much more in common, than the differences that tear us apart. And I feel... sorrow.

Am I alone? In my thoughts? In my feelings?

Does anyone understand?

...

I think they do.

I look around and see a women fall over, and several strangers around her flock to her aid. I see a struggling student be taught with a smile, by a patient mentor. I see those masses with nothing give everything, and give everything though those who have everything give nothing, and they give with love. I see whole countries welcoming their neighbours with warm, open arms. And I feel pity, for those countries with locked doors and guard dogs, for they know not what they miss. I feel for them, compassion, and understanding, for they too soon shall realise.

I see hatred grow into tolerance and I see tolerance grow into acceptance. And I see acceptance, evolve into love. And I see... progress... change.

And I feel... hope.

And I wonder... who else does?