As I am watching the people milling around me, I feel ever more detached. It is as though I am only witnessing the crowd around me. As though I am nothing but a pair of eyes floating in space. As it happens increasingly often, everything around me strikes me like a mere movie. More, nothing appears to me as firm or true any longer. Not an unpleasant feeling, this. The only misgiving about my state of mind is that I am fully aware that I am still here. Still visible and palpable, and thus also vulnerable. Not yet a ghost, free to witness without any engagement, I feel a tiny bit uneasy. My detachment is not yet real, not yet completely free. Like a fake ghost, I am still compelled to witness the witnessing, too.