I don't know exactly what it is about me and my mother, but this happens to us an unreasonable amount.

We can meet someone for the first time, have a completely ordinary conversation, and somehow, within fifteen minutes, we know their entire life story.

Not literally their entire life, obviously.

But enough of it.

Where they grew up.

What their family is like.

What happened to them.

What they are worried about.

What they regret.

What they are proud of.

Sometimes things they probably didn't even intend to tell us.

And the strangest part is that it doesn't feel forced.

It just happens.

IT STARTS WITH SOMETHING COMPLETELY ORDINARY

Someone might ask where we are from.

We answer.

We ask them something back.

They answer.

And then somehow the conversation changes direction.

Suddenly we are hearing about their childhood.

Their first job.

Their parents.

Their children.

Their marriage.

A difficult period in their life.

Something that happened twenty years ago.

And we are just standing there listening.

THE STRANGER WHO WASN'T REALLY A STRANGER

I think the word "stranger" is interesting.

Technically, this is someone we have never met.

But after twenty minutes of conversation, you can know things about them that you don't know about people you have known for years.

You can know what they are afraid of.

What they miss.

What they are proud of.

Who they love.

What they wish they had done differently.

Then you say goodbye.

And you might never see them again.

That is a strange kind of intimacy.

MY MOTHER HAS THIS TOO

I have noticed that my mother is particularly good at this.

She doesn't make people feel interrogated.

She just talks to them.

There is no pressure.

No need to impress anyone.

No need to immediately turn the conversation into advice.

Maybe that is why people continue.

They don't feel like they are being interviewed.

They feel like someone is actually listening.

MAYBE PEOPLE JUST WANT TO BE HEARD

I think we underestimate how many people walk around carrying stories that nobody has asked about in years.

Someone might have spent their entire day talking about work.

Numbers.

Deadlines.

Customers.

Responsibilities.

But maybe nobody asked them how they actually felt.

Then a stranger comes along and says something as simple as:

"How did you end up here?"

And suddenly there is a story.

THE SHOPKEEPER

I have had conversations with people in shops that started with something completely insignificant.

The product.

The weather.

The place.

The price.

And somehow the person is telling you about how they started the business.

Why they moved cities.

How their father used to do the same thing.

How difficult the first few years were.

How things have changed.

You walked in wanting something completely ordinary.

You leave carrying someone else's story.

THE DRIVER

Drivers are another category entirely.

You sit in the back.

They ask where you are going.

You answer.

Then they ask where you're from.

Then they tell you where they're from.

Then you hear about their family.

Their previous job.

Their hometown.

Their children.

Something funny that happened ten years ago.

Sometimes they become incredibly honest.

Perhaps because they know the conversation has an expiration date.

You will reach your destination.

The door will open.

You will leave.

And that is it.

WHY DO PEOPLE OPEN UP?

I have thought about this a lot.

Maybe strangers feel safer because there is no future expectation.

If you tell your friend something embarrassing, they might remember it for years.

If you tell a stranger, you can simply walk away.

Maybe that makes honesty easier.

Or perhaps people are just tired of keeping everything inside.

WE ARE ALL WALKING AROUND WITH UNSEEN LIVES

This is probably the biggest thing I take away from these conversations.

Every person you pass has an enormous amount happening behind the version you see.

The man sitting beside you.

The woman working at the counter.

The person driving the bus.

The old couple walking down the street.

The person standing in front of you in a queue.

You see five seconds of their life.

They have lived decades.

SOMETIMES THE MOST INTERESTING STORIES AREN'T FAMOUS

We naturally want to hear stories from famous people.

Celebrities.

Politicians.

Entrepreneurs.

Athletes.

But I think ordinary people have some of the most interesting stories.

Someone who spent forty years repairing machines.

Someone who moved countries.

Someone who raised three children alone.

Someone who worked in the same shop for thirty years.

Someone who met their spouse when they were seventeen.

Someone who never left their hometown.

Someone who did.

None of these people will necessarily appear in a history book.

But their lives are still enormous.

I DON'T ALWAYS KNOW WHAT TO SAY

Sometimes the best thing I can do is listen.

I don't need to fix anything.

I don't need to have an impressive response.

I don't even need to understand completely.

Sometimes someone simply needs to finish the story.

And there is something quite beautiful about being trusted with a story that you have no obligation to carry.

THEN WE GO OUR SEPARATE WAYS

This is the part I like most.

The conversation ends.

We say goodbye.

Maybe we shake hands.

Maybe we smile.

Then we continue our day.

They go back to their life.

I go back to mine.

And somewhere inside my head, there is now a tiny piece of a person I may never meet again.

MAYBE THAT IS WHY IT KEEPS HAPPENING

Perhaps there isn't anything particularly mysterious about me or my mother.

Maybe we simply give people enough space to talk.

Maybe people don't need much encouragement to tell their stories.

Maybe everyone has something they have been waiting to say.

And maybe the easiest way to discover how interesting people are is to stop trying to make yourself interesting.

Just ask.

And listen.