While checking out at a store, we noticed the cashier's name on her tag was an Indian name. We were speculating out loud the vedic-metric connotations of the name when she caught on and asked how we knew about her name. "We're from India," I explained our familiarity. Still unable to home in on a location, she accommodated us with puzzled, "You're different."
Yup. We're different. Apparently, we have also gone underground just to make it evident. On the other hand and beyond discrete progressive spaces, it packages our strangeness and fixes our subjectivity. Somewhere between the claim and the packaging, the self is aware of the other.
ps: Check out the rants of the other in the 'we' at http://myunrest.blogspot.com/