We were looking back on the way we used to live — and how quickly it’s all changing — when a friend shared a story about stepping out to buy ink cartridges for his fountain pen.
His wife looked at him, amused, and said, “Why don’t you just order a dozen online and keep them in your drawer? It’ll be cheaper, quicker, and hassle-free.”
He smiled, pretended not to hear, and went out anyway.
After all, it wasn’t really about the cartridges. It was about the quiet joy of stepping out — seeing people, exchanging smiles, hearing the city hum. On his little errand, he met a few friendly faces, waved at a passing school van, admired a couple of adorable babies, and and even asked a stranger the name of her lovely brown Shih Tzu.
By the time he came home, he had his pen refills — and a handful of tiny, human moments that made his day richer than any online order ever could.
There’s a quiet moral there: we’re not just here to tick boxes and get things done. We’re here to wander a little — to move, to notice, to connect.
Sure, technology makes life easier. You can have a dozen cartridges delivered to your doorstep without leaving your couch. But in that convenience, we often lose the beauty of wandering, of bumping into life by accident — close off the opportunity to step out again once the ink gets exhausted.
We are, after all, social creatures — meant to move, to feel, to be part of the world around us.
