Roofies.

I've been doing my best to get up to the roof of my building at night lately and meditate. You'd be amazed at how quiet West LA can feel after midnight; how clear the sky can be. I often run into one of my neighbors up there, a guy who comes up from time to time to have a cigarette. We barely know each other, but we're the only two people in the building who ever visit the roof, so I think there's an unspoken kinship there. Roofies.

The other night, he opened up his mouth to say hello, and (I think to his surprise as much as mine) ended up talking for a good half hour about some very personal things that were going on in his life, and some big decisions he had to make. I sat there, listened, offered a word or two when I could- but mostly just listened.

When he'd finished, he sighed heavily, put out his cigarette, and apologized for talking so much. "I feel lighter," he said. "I feel like I've really unburdened myself." And with that, he disappeared back down the stairs, behind the walls that build the illusion of separation between all of our lives. I wanted to say "don't apologize - I needed that." I wanted to thank him. But I'm not sure if I did. I think I may have just sat there silent, grateful, meditating on the many ways we're all connected but don't ever know it.