If I were asked to describe today’s world in one word, I would choose the word “connection”. Indeed, we spend much of our daily lives connected to an endless, digital world, with constant access to information. We communicate quickly and easily, thanks to the possibilities of modern technology. So, one would say that human communication is at its best. That in such a world, no one can truly feel alone.

But how much of this communication is essential? And if someone took the cell phone out of our hands, how many of those people would still be there?

This question came to me on the way to a business trip. Alone among strangers, heading to an equally unknown place. Lots of acquaintances, but almost no prospect of meaningful human contact. Typicality and distances. This would be my reality for a few days. Or at least I thought so.

I decided to focus on what I was here for: work. That would keep me busy enough not to think about the embarrassment of all this unknown.

And that’s exactly what I did. I participated in all the events, but my mind remained focused on work. And so one night, at a dinner. I was watching the celebration that was set up a few meters away, but my mind was traveling elsewhere. I almost didn’t realize it when he came and sat next to me. Smile bright, eyes clear. He had something special. I still couldn’t figure out what. “What does he want?”, I thought. “Another formal contact,” added the little voice inside me. He asked me how my days of travel were, he asked about my work. I was answering briefly, comprehensively. No one here needs to know much about you, I thought.

Before long, without even realizing it, I had said much more than was typical. Within a short time, I heard – to my great surprise – myself talking about unacknowledged feelings, disappointments, ruined plans and funny stories. For things that maybe even the people closest to me didn’t happen to know.

“But what do I say about the man?”, I thought at one point. However, he did not allow this question to live for long. Each answer gave me the trigger for a new question. The clear eyes began to fill with color, the facial expressions testified that there was real interest. The smile that formed regularly confirmed that something beautiful was happening here.

Hours passed, I didn’t understand how. I laughed, I remembered, I opened up. I gave and I took. But, above all, I felt. I felt connected to a person truly, deeply, fundamentally, in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time.

I spent the next few days wondering what it is that can bond us to someone so effortlessly. Is it “chemistry”? A source of intimacy? Or just one’s attempt to communicate at virtually every opportunity? I don’t know, I can’t say. But I understood one thing. It is deeply charming. And especially when it comes where you least expect it.

And then I remembered the first thought I had: “There’s something special about him.” Only now I could make out what. “You have a gift for communication,” I said. However, it was not exactly that, but something else, something so rare now, that when it exists, it shines: Interest. Honest, relentless, lively. Communication that is not content with the surface, but asks for more. And something else, inexplicable: That instinctive feeling that “unlocks” everything inside you and makes you open the most sensitive parts of yourself to someone who was unknown until a while ago.

Maybe, then again, it’s not so inexplicable. How many people ask you “what do you do?” and they really expect to hear something other than a standard “good?”. How many want to know about you out of genuine, genuine interest and not some interest or gossip? How many look you in the eyes with such a clear look and with an open soul, ready to take and give? How touchingly rare, how wonderfully essential such human contact is.