Of cliches, the one of two boats passing each other at night is perhaps my favorite. In our city scape rushes of busy nine to five, of hurried life our own world don't bother me because I'm short on time and on a mission, how often must one pass, without knowing, the possiblity of magic?
But our humanity has not been lost. There are moments when even the most hurried among us have the sensation of slow motion at the smile of a stranger. There are moments when even the most cynical among us spend the rest of their day wondering what could have happened if only. If only I said something. If only I said something else. If only I had asked for... if only.
That smile is a missed connection. That if only is a missed connection. That haunting of woulda coulda shoulda, that's a missed connection. And most of us, most of the time, let it be. We wish and hope and maybe it'll happen again, but know probably won't; and thus we move on.
But sometimes the urge to connect, to try to connect, is too much. And thus we turn to the hope of a missed connection ad.
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