“Minority Report” began as an ordinary opinion column. Then I got the idea to combine words and images — this was the first one. I said, in part:
“They’re just some people waiting for a boat. They stand there blank, expressionless, inert, not looking at each other, not looking at anything, silent little islands, lost inside themselves. They seem disconnected and isolated, waiting here, outside their ordinary limits, their ordinary roles, the next hours an unanswered question.
When you live within the limits of the ordinary, there’s always an answer to every question. Ask your Lola, your barkada- and they’ll tell you, not what “You” in Particular should do; but what “a guy” should do, what “a wife,” a “mother” a “brother” should do. Only generic advice is available. Not because they don’t care who you are, but because that’s all they know. For them, you are the part you play.
That’s why these people appear so blank and lifeless. At this moment, between one place and another, they are actors at intermission, out of character, ungrounded. Surrounded by strangers, they have no parts to play. If you want to know who they are, don’t look into their faces for answers.”
