You’re going to cross paths with around eight strangers today — on a train, in a queue, by the lift, […]

It’s what their body whispers while you’re speaking. The café was loud, plates chimed, and a cyclist flashed past the

You nod at the courier with the cap, the new intern with headphone dents, the woman you’ve seen twice at

What changed wasn’t the content, but the quiet things holding it together: the music of a voice and the direction

Someone stands beside you. You both stare at the floor numbers, or the croissants, pretending the silence is fine. It

Words carry the story, yet it’s the quiet signals that tell you whether the story is landing. In everyday chats,

The first seconds are a fragile hinge. Too often we let the moment close. Not from coldness, just from habit

Two colleagues sat by the window. One was talking fast, hands sketching shapes in the air; the other just watched,

Not the phrases, not the clever replies — the body. In a crowded office, on a train, across a kitchen

A meeting that loosens your shoulders. A date where time slides past the bill. We’ve all had that moment when