As I move into my eighth month in London, I can feel something inside me settling. Life has become gentler, each day filled with small joys, simple “aha” moments, and unexpected gifts. Perhaps, the soil here is like humans: if you love it, listen to it, and observe it with patience, it speaks back to you. I feel as if I’m talking to an invisible friend whenever watching the wind brushing newly green leaves, or pausing in front of moss‑covered statues that seem to hold centuries of whispered stories.
Yet nothing can replace human connections, even with strangers or in situations that are strangely connected with you.
Yesterday at Highbury station, I noticed a beggar sitting with his dog. I had a lingering thought about giving him some coins, but with this cashless habit, spontaneous kindness becomes sadly inconvenient. Today, I passed them again and caught myself thinking, oh, I forgot.
And then, in the most unexpected way, I spotted a shiny pound lying on the pavement, a small coin someone must have dropped without noticing. The moment made me smile with an almost childlike thought: perhaps my “invisible friend” was nudging me, reminding me that generosity still has its place in a world of contactless taps. So I picked it up and completed my little “mission,” and the joy felt shared among the three of us: the man, his dog, and me.
From Miles to Meaning 
Leave a comment