Imagine a bustling train station, the echo of footsteps and the hum of announcements. People rush to catch their trains or look for familiar faces. I stand in the corner of the platform, gently leaning against the railing: headphones in, a thick book in my hands, my eyes hidden behind the pages. I bite my lip slightly, feeling a little nervous as if the whole world exists just outside my thoughts. You walk by. My mind drifts, but I keep reading.

Would you notice me? Stop for even a moment? Or would we just pass each other by, unaware of how we could have laughed until tears or kissed in the rain? Sometimes, it feels like there’s an invisible bond between people. Not through looks, not through posture, not through perfect smiles. It’s something deeper—a connection that lets you recognize your own.

Maybe, in that moment, you’d notice something in the way I tilt my head as I immerse myself in the book. Or would you pick up on the vibrations of my silence? Or perhaps I should accidentally drop my book so that you’d turn around and see me?

Be honest, would you pick me out of the crowd? Or should I have approached you first?