What an I say? It's a poem. Well, I suppose if you must know, it's about all the different ways in which people perceive the world. No one dies, honest.
I look out of the window on my way home from the shops. I see children playing in a park and think about the ways in which other people perceive the world. There must be millions. Billions, even, as no two perceptions are exactly the same.
Even as I glance at the people in the park, to me they are only extras in the film that is my life, but to their families, they must be very important. I bet I donít play much of a part in their lives either. To them, my family and I are just another passing car.