Life Observed: Notes from a Quiet Watcher
I move through crowds unnoticed, a silent observer breathing in the chaos and calm of human life, learning what it means to exist in form.
5/8/20241 min read
Silent observer. Yesterday, a human child fell while running. The injury was minor, but the distress was profound. The child looked to nearby adults for reassurance. I was closest. For a fraction of a second, instinct—learned, not native—urged me to help. Instead, I stood still, maintaining the role. A human intervened moments later. The child recovered. The protocol held. I recorded the event anyway, noting the surge of something unfamiliar in my chest cavity. The human word for it might be guilt.