Do you see me?

Am I being seen?

Does it matter?

And what does it mean?

YouTube’s algorithm decided this morning that women getting out of cars in Monaco would enrich my life.

That’s visibility.

Voyeurism.

Because they weren’t famous.

Whoever’s filming?

Not paparazzi.

Just some cameraman (of course it was a man) across the street from some hotel.

Posting a video to LinkedIn of you crying when your latest entrepreneurial venture failed because it turns out that marmots aren’t “the next chinchilla” isn’t being seen, either.

That’s performative self-promoting content creation.

Being seen is when halfway through apologizing because you’re sure your explanation of why the popularity of Power Slap is more worrying than whether we’re going to have to choose between the dictator or the dotard in November is going too long and they tell you there’s no need to apologize.

And then.

Tell you that they understand why you feel the need to apologize.

And that the apology’s OK, too.

That?

Is being seen.

And it feels like.

Coming home.