Making a person happy does not mean saving him from all troubles. It means noticing when he is tired. Hearing, even when he is silent. Bringing a cup of tea. Saying "I'm here". Smile so that it becomes his most needed support on a day when everything went wrong. The noblest art is in the little things. In the warmth of your hand. In the ability to listen not to answer, but to understand. In the laughter that you give, even if you yourself are not very happy. In a message without a reason: "How are you today?" In the ability to stay when everyone has left. In believing in a person, even if he has forgotten himself. This is the art of being attentive, sensitive, sincere. It doesn't require a brush, a stage or a genius talent. It requires a heart. A big, lively, real one. The world may not notice how you warmed someone's soul, but the one you made even a little happier will remember it for a long time. Because in a world where there is so much noise, show and running around, the silence in which you are understood is truly valued. The noblest art is not to be perfect. But to be kind. Real. And bright. Sometimes through your own shadows. But the light is only warmer from this.