"Who's he? Why should I care as to what he sees in those blurry lines?" is a question that I can never answer to.
I see so many things in that stranger, who'd interrupt his friend, to look at the same skyline of Kotturpuram, that he sees everyday from his sweet little foot-board area.
I see so many things in my friend, , who just this evening interrupted our conversation over a call, and asked me to go to my terrace, to look at the orange-tinged full moon. He probably didn't know that hardly a day goes by when I don't look out for the moon, and that the full moon always reminds me of its presence though the moonlight that graces my room floor at 3 AM. I smiled when he said that. I'm glad that he said that.
I see so many things in that friend who asks me "Bro, even you like Van Gogh?". My heart skipped a beat, tbh.
Again, who cares what that one-in-8-billion looked at in those blurry lines? I do. I most certainly do.