INTIMATE STRANGERS Lifelines During a Pandemic-era Solo American Road Trip
The “Intimate Stranger” concept has long occupied a compartment in my mind. This idea originated while I was living in New York City. What I came to know as “Intimate Strangers” included people, or places—and even, at times, concepts—that helped me to survive, and justify, the expensive existence that is being a New Yorker.
There was Mohammed, the guy working the corner deli near my place in South Williamsburg. He would cheerfully entertain my very poor Arabic late at night or early in the morning, over coffee or a banana, providing me ritual, routine, structure, and casual support. Then there were those people on the subway on the morning commute, standing inside the same cluttered subway car as me, day in and day out—their familiarity becoming something like acquaintance.
Although they weren’t people with whom I was particularly close, there was an intimacy and warmth to these interactions. NYC, while populous, can grow lonely. But there are glimmers of humanity that can act as a compass; people who exist on the periphery of your life,
