Many of us walk through life in parallel worlds, existing side by side without truly connecting. We have our circles, our routines, our protective bubbles. But what if we dared to open them more often? What might happen if we stopped seeing others as strangers and started seeing them as potential teachers, friends, mirrors?

The Stranger as a Mirror

I remember a time in another city, another chapter in life, when I sat in a café and ended up next to an older man. We started talking about the weather — as so often happens. But that weather led us into a conversation about his time as a sailor, a lost love in Marseille, a daughter he no longer spoke to. An hour passed. Then two. When we parted, he thanked me. But I was the one who should have thanked him. His story reminded me of my own — of what I had forgotten, what needed healing.

So often, strangers reflect something within us. Perhaps that’s why certain encounters stay with us. They make us feel something we forgot, spark a new thought, or simply let us breathe a little easier.

Encounters as Seeds of Change

Sometimes it's not the words themselves that make the difference, but the feeling of being seen. That someone took the time. That’s where the magic lies. In our fragmented societies, where loneliness is one of the most widespread illnesses, a meeting with a stranger can be the beginning of something new. A new hope. A soft push forward. Or simply a moment of human warmth.

Thoraya’s videos are more than entertainment. They’re archives of human connection. Tiny time capsules of presence and openness. And they remind us of our longing to be understood — even if just for a few minutes during a walk.

The Nordic Coldness – Myth or Shield?

It’s often said that in Sweden, we’re reserved, that we don’t talk to strangers. And yes, sometimes that’s true. But often, it’s not a lack of desire — it’s fear. Fear of intruding. Fear of rejection. But underneath, there is warmth, curiosity, a desire for connection.

I’ve experienced it many times. Once you break the ice, something changes. The smile comes. The story flows. And suddenly you’re standing there — with a new insight, a seed planted. It’s not uncommon that the best conversations happen with people you’ll never meet again.

Walking to Connect – Not Just to Arrive

There is something magical about walking. It creates rhythm, allows for pauses, thoughts, breathing. When we walk beside each other rather than sit face-to-face, the conversation often becomes freer. There’s no pressure for constant eye contact. Silences feel natural. It becomes a shared flow.

Perhaps we should embrace that more? Invite others to join us for a walk. Ask someone we meet: “Want to walk a while?” Not to get something, but to give space for the unexpected.

To Listen Is to Honor

When someone shares their story with you — in a park, on a bus, or during a filmed walk — they’re giving you something valuable. To truly listen is to honor that. It requires presence. Curiosity without judgment. Silence without interruption. An openness that’s rare, but healing.

We don’t always need to respond with advice or solutions. Sometimes, it’s enough just to be there. To nod. To meet someone eye-to-eye.

Friendships That Begin Without a Plan

I have friends today that I met by chance — on a train, in a waiting room, while traveling. There was no plan. Just a moment of connection that became the beginning of something deeper. Something lasting. Not all relationships need a structured beginning. Some simply happen.

And even the encounters that don’t lead to continued contact can leave an impression. A story can live within us for years. It can shape our choices, our thoughts, our worldview.

We Need Each Other – Perhaps Now More Than Ever

In a time of war, climate crises, political division, and AI revolutions, the human encounter becomes even more crucial. We need to be reminded that behind the screens, behind the opinions, behind the algorithms, are people. Like you. Like me.

Meeting, talking, walking together — these are the antidotes to division and alienation. This is how we build bridges. Not always grand, monumental ones. But small, everyday bridges. One at a time.

A Life Measured in Encounters

Looking back at my life, it’s not the accomplishments, the projects, or the places that stay with me most. It’s the people I’ve met. The ones I listened to. The ones who listened to me.

Maybe that’s how we should measure a life — not by how far we’ve walked, but by whom we walked with.

So next time you meet someone’s eyes — smile. Say hello. Maybe, just maybe, it will lead to a walk that changes something.

Just like Thoraya shows us — sometimes all it takes is a simple question:

“Can I walk with you?”