A man is sitting alone in a café.
There is a cup of coffee in front of him, a window overlooking the street, and a phone that lights up every few minutes.
He picks it up, scrolls through something, and puts it down.
Then picks it up again.
Not necessarily because anyone has messaged him.
Perhaps he simply doesn't know what to do with a few minutes in which nothing is happening.
We have become remarkably good at filling empty spaces.
We listen to something whilst driving.
Watch something whilst eating.
Scroll through our phones while waiting for the lift.
And when we find ourselves alone in a quiet room, we can feel an almost immediate need to do something, as though sitting without a purpose were a minor personal failing.
I wonder what happens to us when we leave ourselves so little time without noise.
There used to be small stretches of the day that were difficult to escape.
The journey to work.
A wait at the doctor's surgery.
An evening spent looking out of the window.
We became bored, of course.
But boredom left us somewhere to wander.
We remembered somebody we hadn't spoken to for years.
Revisited a remark that had hurt us.
Wondered whether we were happy with the way our lives were going.
Or simply drifted through thoughts that had no obvious use.
Now our phones can rescue us from almost all of those moments.
It is a wonderful convenience.
But it raises a question I am reluctant to answer too quickly:
If we can escape every empty moment, when do we get to hear ourselves think?
Silence is not always pleasant.
Sometimes it is uncomfortable.
It can bring back a memory we would rather forget, or a question we don't feel ready to answer.
And sometimes a person is simply exhausted and wants to watch something ridiculous and have a laugh.
There is nothing wrong with that.
Not every minute needs to become a profound experience.
The difficulty begins when constant distraction becomes our only way of spending time with ourselves.
When we can no longer eat a meal without a screen.
Walk for ten minutes without headphones.
Or wait for somebody without opening an app, closing it, and opening it again.
At that point, perhaps we are looking for more than entertainment.
Perhaps there is something we are trying not to encounter.
Because quiet moments occasionally allow questions to surface that struggle to find room in the noise.
Do I actually like the life I am living?
Why do I keep putting off that conversation?
When did I become so distant from a friend who once knew everything about me?
Am I genuinely busy, or does being busy help me avoid thinking?
These questions do not always bring answers.
Some may be fleeting, or even unfair.
But allowing them to pass through our minds can help us recognise what we are feeling, rather than merely finding another way to drown it out.
I don't think we need to abandon technology or turn silence into yet another daily discipline at which we might fail.
Perhaps we could simply drink a coffee without photographing it.
Take a short walk without listening to anybody.
Leave the phone in our pocket while we wait.
And see what happens.
Perhaps nothing remarkable will happen.
Perhaps we will remember something important.
Perhaps we will feel bored, then discover that boredom is not a disaster.
Not every empty space in our day needs filling. Some of those spaces are where we finally make room for ourselves.
— Malek Ayoub