Once it seemed to me that whether you speak or remain silent - the meaning is the same. But then conversations began that changed me. In them, boundaries disappeared, “I” and “you” ceased to exist. All that remained was us, together in a room where time had fallen away.

At first there was a topic - “chance meetings”. Once we met at a bus stop. No one knew us, and nothing meant anything. But then - the conversation began. He took coffee, I tea, but we did not drink. We talked. About how chance is not chance. About how the world is too small for us not to meet. This is how a simple conversation went beyond the limits: we discussed times, music, smells, the way the sky looks on Friday.

Another saving conversation is about failures. No compliments, no hidden feelings. Just “I drank too much coffee” or “I thought about giving up, but…” And this “but” always included us - two souls who fell silent and suddenly realized that one understood the other.

And here’s another: you can talk about food. For example, why does your favorite pizza remind you of childhood? Why is the ritual of choosing three ingredients to take with you not just a flavor combination, but a portrait of your soul? Mix peppers, olives and anchovies - and you get a whole story. Who would have thought?

And there are conversations about the home that is inside you. I heard that “home is not a place.” It’s a state. I would add - this is a conversation after which you stop looking for the address. You just understand: here it is. This is you.

What can you talk about for hours? I have a topic: fear. But not where to hide fear, but how to live through it, how to softly pass by. Because fear is not an enemy. It is a part of you. And one story can melt the ice that we carry inside.

You can also talk about dreams. Even small ones. Like those that seem unrealizable, but alive. I tell how I want to see the northern lights one day - and suddenly the person next to me listens and thinks: "I want to too." And we are no longer just talking about something distant. We are talking about what is inside us.

We can talk for hours about why we sometimes cannot say "no." Or why we are lonely in noise. About books, music, silence between words. About how important it is to be heard - not appreciated, not understood, but truly heard.

And now imagine: a room, dim light, a conversation that has been going on for ten hours, but it seems like it has only just begun. The world outside the window is quiet, time has stopped. This is the chance to feel that you are not alone, that words are not just sounds, but a bridge between souls.

Have you ever spoken to anyone like this? Perhaps this is the most valuable dialogue - when words and silence are equal.