Musings of a passer-by

I often wonder if I am the only person who notices the things I notice. Is the world blind or merely ignorant of small details that don't affect them? For example no one else seems to be bothered by the ticking of the giant clock that watches over my house like a dark cloud looming over our heads. No one seems to notice the patterns children make when they run around. No one seems to notice exhaustion take it's toll on the poor shop boy that scurries around running errands mere seconds after the sun rises after spending the night in a small room next to his uncle's shop where all he has is a bed and two shelves for his belongings and incense sticks he lights when he prays.  No one notices the street sweeper and the corollary of her hard work etched onto her face as wrinkles and scars. Nor does anyone notice the of glee on the faces of little boys, stealing a bottle of coke and drinking it secretly. No one seemed to notice the young man in the Audi staring outside the window looking trapped and miserable. Maybe he was observing people the way I was. Our eyes locked briefly and my smile was reciprocated. I had made a person happy, but no one had noticed. I chuckled quietly to  myself and walked on.