A moment of connection

I was waiting for my train at Piccadilly Station on a cold, rainy afternoon. When I reached my platform, I sat down and noticed a woman nearby feeding pigeons. As I watched her, she pointed towards a smaller pigeon I hadn’t noticed at first. He was limping, missing a claw, while the other pigeons were quicker and stronger and kept reaching the food before him.

The woman was trying to help by gently shooing the others away. At some point, a small piece of bread landed close to me, and I picked it up, softly encouraging the little pigeon to come closer. At first he was shy and hesitant, unsure whether to trust me, but slowly and cautiously he approached. He picked up the bread, then dropped it and the other pigeons rushed in and took it from him.

The woman smiled and reached into her bag for another piece of bread, and without saying a word, we both became quietly determined. We formed a small, unspoken team. She fed, and I encouraged, smiling at each other as we gently cheered on this little limping pigeon. Soon something began to shift: our protegee grew braver, as if he could feel our protection, our support and the space we were holding for him.

We stayed there for a few minutes, calmly shooing the other pigeons away and encouraging him, when a couple came over and joined us. Suddenly there were four of us, all focused on this small, injured bird. We were smiling, laughing softly, sharing something simple and unexpectedly tender, connected through this tiny act of care.

When my train arrived, I stepped on board with a smile still on my face. The moment stayed with me, as seeing someone care so gently for a small and vulnerable creature touched me more deeply than I expected.

As the train moved, I noticed how most people around me were on their phones, myself included, and I realised how rarely we notice what is happening around us anymore. How rarely we truly stop, look and care. Screens don’t just take our attention; they quietly pull us away from these small, human moments of kindness and connection.

That woman created something beautiful through a simple gesture. For a few minutes, she created a space where strangers connected, where we were present with each other, where we interacted, smiled, and played in a very human way. As I write this now, I am filled with both gratitude and sadness, knowing how easily moments like this pass unnoticed.

People don’t really interact with each other as much anymore. Everyone seems to live in their own small bubble, often absorbed by a screen, even when something tender is unfolding right beside them.  I don’t think people are unkind, I think many of us are tired, overwhelmed, but quietly longing for something we can’t quite name, even as we scroll past it.

I sometimes wonder whether things will change, whether we will realise that we are slowly growing apart and choose to do something about it or whether we will drift even further away from each other.

Deep down, I believe we all want to come closer. Sometimes, we just don’t quite know how.

Love,

Rosie x