But you: you have two eyes, ten fingers, and ten toes to dig in the sand. The tongue has 10,000 taste buds, you say, and smell is the only sense that goes directly to the brain. That's why coffee lets me remember everyone I've ever had chocolate with. You can store data on a spreadsheet, but not the way a soft, thick towel feels after sitting in the sunlight.
That's what you say, and you know that it is true not because it helps you find yourself but because it helps you find your friends. You have reason and emotion and imagination and intuition and how rich, how fucking rich is your experience? Do you know how amazingly complex and incomprehensible and vital is every single day?
Consider this moment: you will never feel this way, this precise combination of ways, ever again. You, just you, are the music of a multitude. That's why you get up and go to work, you never quite know what might happen, or what songs the day might bring. You could talk to someone, someone at a checkout, and before you know it you're in Mali. That's why you're here: not because you're lonely or would find completion, but because you would, you would love to share the wonder of the symphony of ordinary life.
So go ahead. Write back, Skype, call. That's why you're here. Not because you'll find someone necessarily, but because you'll realize that you are in Toronto and Toronto is alive and you are alive.
And the conversation starts today.