peoplings

It seems as though I can never get enough of people. In that, I dont mean to say that I desire people in my daily life, or am fixated or dependant on any of them. I mean only to intone that certain people catch me in being interested, and once you find a certain being worth watching and waiting for, its probably setting itself up for a mess, but even the most educated mind keeps their eyes open when disaster strikes. Perhaps its unhealthy to wonder about the going ons of people and try to decipher their structure of friends and attempt to comprehend their sexualities and manners of being. It might even be wrong to take their pictures out of frames to study, to feel coarse paper between fingertips and to smell the dust off every old damp page of their family books and treasures. This all could be frighteningly immoral, but again its hard not to wonder, to try to see their ways of making life meaningfull and changing that just enough to know if they really grasp the point of it just yet.