I’ve always been that way. I soak up things, other peoples’ stories mostly. I carry them for them, particularly when I’m writing about them, they stay with me for days. All those sorrows, some joy too. Do I change the tone of their narratives, do I alter them with my own particular way of seeing? She seemed sad, it wasn’t what I expected of her. Does she want me to write of her sadness? I suspect not. Breathe. You have time. Let the tale unfold. See the beauty. It is there.