Who?
Vetle
Where?
Oslo, Norway
What?
"You have an amazing, unique voice. You should be working for the radio or singing or something!"
How did he react?
All his coffee shop colleagues started laughing. He did, too, and said: "Thank you!" Responding to their laughter I asked, "I'm sure you've heard that before..?"
"Actually, no! Never!"
How did I feel?
It was a sweet moment! I met Vetle during my five hour layover in Oslo. One good day: Strolling through the streets, taking in the sun, impressive buildings and Fjellraven backpacks I passed the Kaffebrenneriet. Vetle served me- with a voice I have nothing to compare to. He spoke loudly yet pleasantly. It was like a male speech choir inhabited his throat, firing away their most passionate fortissimo. Accompanied by his smooth, innocent movements his sonorous voice made him stick out in the best way possible. 
Also he and his coworker fixed the best coffee I have had in weeks. Thanks, guys!
Anything else?
Sure! Care for a short trip to Oslo? Please follow me: 

Who?
Nick
Where?
Berlin, Germany - Copenhagen, Denmark
What?
"You are an amazingly talented photographer! The things you see and the way you arrange them... Wow. What an eye."
How did he react?
"Thank you! That's really nice of you to say!"
How did I feel?
Seven hours on the road can last a hundred years, we've all been there. I have written about it before. Jams, hunger, "I have to pee.". Sweat, fights, bad radio music... I was ready for all of that when I booked my ticket for the bus going from Berlin to Copenhagen. Arriving at the station I was sure my anticipation was correct with a massive crowd waiting to hop on and a bus driver shouting at me for not finding my ticket within three seconds. I got on, ready to fall asleep right away.
My fear's opposite happened: The only vacant seat was next to a bearded man. His name was Nick, he was Australian and replied "You want to sit next to me? That would be my pleasure.". We started talking and didn't stop for hours. Nick has been studying in Aarhus, Denmark for a year. He took anthropology classes there which primarily focused on the Viking culture. He told me about Valhalla, Thor and the takeover of Christianity (which was supported by women even though Christianity was a lot more paternalistic than most pagan belief systems. Together we brainstormed a bit about why that might have been. How come ladies would want Paganism over Christianity?) Nick's Viking stories inspired me. I just did a little research and found out some more interesting facts: Did you know our weekdays names are rooted in Norse paganism? Here's what Wikipedia says: 

Nick's voice was pleasant and his word plays came quickly. Instead of hours on a bus we shared stories, jokes and moments. Time flew. He will be a primary school teacher for he feels like he's got something to give. He loves the Scandivanian art scene because it's more integrative than the Australian one. It makes him feel like anything's possible. 60 minutes past departure he looked at me and said: "Ooh! And we'll be on the ferry! I dig the ferry." Once we'd arrived at the sea we hung out on the deck together. The waves were endless, the air smelled of salt. I practiced Yoga in the sun, Nick read his new favorite author Nick Hornby. According to him Hornby writes like he (the Australian Nick) thinks. Then he pulled out his camera. I know Nick will be a great teacher because of what happened next: He taught me how to work the analogue camera. Countless people have tried that before, I never managed to follow. With Nick it took five minutes and I was ready to go. I danced over the ferry, looking for objects, enjoying the race that analogue photography is- if you don't set it all quick enough, the moment will be gone. I spotted a little sailing boat, out alone, next to the sun. I hope I caught it. Can't wait to check out the picture... 
Back in the bus Nick showed me his pictures. That's when the compliment happened. It just fell out of my mouth, with no preparation or second thoughts. I was stunned. Here's why:

When Nick and I parted it felt like we'd gone on a trip together- the planned kind, not the incidental one. We looked each other in the eye and said "Thanks. You're a great person.". Then Nick went off and I was left feeling like I'd just made a new friend who I'd known for years at the same time. 
Thank you, Nick. 

Who?
6 Swedish Musicians
Where?
Berlin, Germany
What?
"You are the miracle of my day. Thank you so much for your amazing playing"
How did they react?
"Oh, wow, thank you! We really appreciate that!" Smiles. Laughter. More smiles. Then they played on.
How did I feel?
Hey there, non German natives! Here's a challenge for you: My favorite German word. It's Kehlkopfkribbeln. What was that? Say it again. (I bet you're doing a great job, keep going!) The closer you are the more the word will feel like what it expresses: A tingling in your voice box. It's the combination of K and that crazy German R that provokes it. But the pronounced one can be nothing but a copy because the actual Kehlkopfkribbeln only crawls up your throat when you are most passive. Saying something will prevent it from happening.
Alright let's be honest. Here's the thing: I made that word up. But I didn't make up the sensation, I promise. I have experienced it more than once. I know it exists even though I haven't met a single person who knows that, too- up until now. So if what I am about to describe sounds familiar to you holler right away! Please.
I don't get it often. Once every six months if I am lucky. Sometimes it stays gone for four, five years. But lately it's been around quite regularly: A few months ago when the Kebab guy took all the time in the world to fix my snack. I watched him take cucumber after cucumber and place them on the bread in full devotion. He was in love with the food. His eyes full of respect, his hands eager not to break a single one of the tiny pieces of vegetables... So careful, so slow. There it was, Kehlkopfkribbeln. A few months earlier I'd seen a hairdresser combing a woman's hair. The hairbrush had moved down that head in the most cautious way, as if she was trying to straighten the hair without losing a single one. It was more of a caressing than a combing.

Today it happened again. I was walking down the canal. The last thing I expected was good old Kehlkopfkribbeln:
Being the tiredest person in the city- 15 hours of sleep in four nights is not enough- I was on my way home. Traveling, moving, writing exams- sometimes it all comes together. 
Inside I felt the big yesterday. Closing my eyes I saw the Rhine and the hills. And I tasted Kölsch. Strolled through Ehrenfeld, Cologne. I have become fond of that neighborhood, it's been good to me. In my mind I wrapped my arms around someone I love. He's there, I am here. Opening my eyes again I realized how much I missed him, and everything else. Change is a weird thing. Suddenly all I wanted was a bench to sit down at. Be held for a second or two. Then I heard a sound. I turned my head and saw some people under a tree. It was dusk, their faces were covered with the tree's shadows. I counted six people, five with instruments, one without. They had a mandolin, a base guitar, a washboard, a guitar and an accordion- and a bench close by. I realized this was my spot. I lay down on the bench and the musicians gave me everything I needed. The Kehlkopfkribbeln was triggered by the mandolin's fine twinkling. My throat opened up. My shoulders sank down, I felt the bench under my back. I realized how tense I was when it started releasing, every bar softened me a tiny bit. Note by note the Kehlkopfkrabbeln grew and after 3 songs brought in some backscratching and a fine shimmering on my chest, all conducted by these people's music. They meant what they played. There was a lot of winking and poking in their tunes- it was Swedish folk- but every now and then the singer's voice softened and her guitar tickled the  mandolin slightly. For 45 minutes these people and their music were strong enough to carry me and gentle enough to wile a tear of mine. It rolled down my cheek and fell on the grass. I let it. 
When the singer started to bring on some rougher words again I sat up slowly and looked around. My fingers started snipping. Another passer by had started dancing. She did a modern dance improvisation, behind her the canal lanterns' reflection moved in the water. It was paradise.
I thanked them all, the complimenting went perfectly easy. I knew it was going to because I'd heard them play. They told me they're from southern Sweden and have just started playing together. I'd never have guessed because their vibe was so positive and amicable! I chatted with them for a bit, got some tips for Scandinavia where I'll be tomorrow, then left. My body was still glowing with all these sweet sensations. The world around me had changed, too: Suddenly I realized there were sunflowers everywhere! Some people must have planted them next to the canal. They are blossoming fully right now, in late September! I couldn't believe it. Stopped again, was grateful. Saw the water, smelled some weed. And found a poster someone had glued to a lantern: 



"And then the day came,
when the risk
to remain tight
in a bud
was more painful
than the risk
it took
to Blossom."

Anais Nin

Who?
Susanne and Brigitte
Where?
Bonn, Germany
What?
"You are the best bosses I have ever had."
How did they react?
I will fill this in as soon as I have received a reaction- This compliment is a written one.
How did I feel?
I started working when I was sixteen. My first job was sitting at the checkout in a supermarket. The boss, a huge guy with a moustache and cold eyes, screamed at me if I scanned less than 35 items per minute. Same if at the end of my shift the cash balance was incorrect, or if he passed me working and I didn't smile. I stayed because I was underage and lacked experience but I swore to myself I was going to leave the day I'd find another gig and never work in a store again. Over the course of the next years I was a barista (no screaming there, but the same conditions), a bartender (the opposite: That boss was a nice guy despite his drug issues. He made me drink shots with him every time he passed the bar. Staying focused for eight hours became kind of hard though), a babysitter, an interpreter, a musician, a research assistant, a writer. 
Bosses came and went as I am sure they will keep doing. Sometimes I was luckier, sometimes less. One of them has become another dad by choice, some of the others I am glad are in the past, the rest is in between. It never got as bad again as it started back in that grocery store, mercifully.
It never was as good as it is now either:
Last October I started working at a Bonn Yoga studio. Within a year that place has turned into home for me. I open the door, I smell the air and my shoulders relax. I know, relaxing your shoulders is a major part of Yoga itself- and yes, of course my passion for teaching and Yoga and teaching Yoga builds the home feeling, too. But there wouldn't be a lump creeping up my throat right now, saying goodbye to Studio 52 with this post, if it wasn't for Susanne and Brigitte. They built the place, it radiates with their warmth, their great visual taste and their care. I have never had such intimate encounters with students before, and again: Yes, that's due to the Yoga itself, the people that come and the person I am- but it would not happen without the channel and frame Susanne and Brigitte created. When I knock at their office's door they ask me how I am, listen closely to my answer and look me in the eye, their presence overwhelming. I got dumped this year and had to teach the same night. Brigitte gave me the warmest, most motherly hug I received all day. 
Every time a student tells them they like my class Brigitte and Susanne report back to me immediately and thank me for my work and devotion. I had been teaching for a little over a year when I started working at the studio yet they trusted me with many classes. It's not that they don't care about quality, they just believe in their teachers. If there is problem they call me and ask for my perspective before explaining theirs: Once I messed up the complete accounting. It cost them a lot of extra hours. They didn't lie; Of course there was criticism. But in between it all I still felt appreciated and they managed to bring across that this did not affect any personal level. Each time I get a call from them I feel uplifted and motivated afterwards.
I learned a lot about humanity and leadership from these two ladies  who I think of as the studio's mothers. They call each new student after their first class and ask about their experience. They keep track of what is going on and expect respect for what they have built and maintained. Meanwhile they spread love for every person who enters the studio, no matter if it's a teacher, a student or a cleaner. There are not many things tying to Bonn on a personal level. This studio does, and letting go fills me with sadness. 
I will miss you, Susanne and Brigitte. Thank you for your great work, your support, trust, teaching and, of course, your love. 
Take ultimate care. Namaste.

Who?
Randi
Where?
Cologne, Germany
What?
"Your voice is incredible. When we chatted before the interview I started listening to the sound of it only and I could feel a soft, beautiful caressing glide all the way down my body. Thank you so much for that!"
How did she react?
I could see she took it. Her gentle gaze softened, she looked moved.
How did I feel?
This woman was incredible. She had the most beautiful vibe I have experienced in months. I am writing this post two hours after our conversation and I still feel the caressing of her voice in my chest and my throat. 
It all took place at WDR5's studio which I was flattered to be hosted by today. Randi interviewed me.
I heard her before I saw her, she was firing away the most creative announcement. Her voice, smooth, low, and a pinch husky made me turn around and say to her colleague: "Wow, she sounds amazingly erotic." I estimated her age at 35 or 40. When she was introduced to me I knew she was older than that. Not that her face showed, no, it was the wisdom in her eyes. They had that look which constantly says "I know. It's fine.", in the most empathic way. 
I sat down with her and we chatted for a bit. Dreamed of San Francisco together, she told me about Oslo (she's half Norwegian), her eyes sparkling. Every word she said smoothened me on the inside and every glance she gave me was a warm hug. All I wanted to do was catch the next flight with her and go to Oslo. Talk to her. And hear her speak.
Her voice and her eyes guiged me into a state of deep relaxation. If this woman wasn't working for the radio I bet she would have become one of the world's greatest diplomats, or trauma therapists, or a artists, just being who she is, sending out these warm, soft rays. All she'd have to do is speak and look people in the eyes, like she did with me. 
Thank you, Randi, for that experience. It was like getting a massage, listening to my favorite tune, petting a soft rabbit and smelling a bouquet, all at once. I will live off that feeling for a while. 

Who?
Dilgin
Where?
Cologne, Germany
What?
"Spotting your hairpin just made me smile. Looks awesome!"
How did he react?
He nodded gracefully, then said: "Thank you!"
How did I feel?
I sat on the train, rapt in thought. Looking up I saw a sparkling. It was a flower, clinging to a man's -Dilgin's- head. The guy was dressed in an awesome way- red tie, red brooch, red scarf, tuxedo-, he sat very upright and talked slowly. I couldn't stop looking at the hairpin, it made me happy on the spot: A bit of unexpected visual joy, for free. I knew I had to go and thank him. Pushing those thoughts away I got up and approached Dilgin. It was the right decision. He was a special person. We talked about the project a bit, he pointed out that this is easier for a woman than for a man, especially when it comes to telling a lady she's pretty. To me he seemed gentle, mellow and pensive. The hairpin, he explained, was something he'd started wearing since his hair had grown long enough for him to need one. Back then he'd decided that it was time to start wearing hairpins and headbands because he didn't see any sense in those items belonging to women only. I loved the idea and, even more, the fact that he went with it.
He told me for two years it'd been hard for him to express his emotions with a total stranger, implying that there was a back story to that, which was why he wouldn't thank-you-hug me or laugh or cry or anything. It sounded like an excuse and suddenly it was me who would've loved to give him a hug. I told him I didn't expect any specific reaction at all, that I was happy if he took the compliment but even that was up to him, obviously. Unfortunately I had to get off the train right away, otherwise I would have asked him about the back story. That way all I could do was thank him and wish him all the best. 

Who?
Henning
Where?
Cologne, Germany
What?
"You have the biggest heart. Thank you for standing there with open arms for the past two years, spreading your amazing welcoming and appreciative vibe."
How did he react?
It was 4 AM, we were both a little drunk. We looked at each other.
Henning swallowed, nodded and said: "Thank you. I really appreciate you saying that."
How did I feel?
Henning and I go to school together. I see him a lot. He waves at me while I run to class, late again. He asks me how I am after school but I can't stick around to chat because I have to catch a train. We stand in line for coffee, I am talking on the phone, he laughs with four of his friends from our year. We say hi with our eyes. Later I pass him in the hallway, he says hey, I say, aw, sorry, gotta run, my Yoga students are waiting.
I have been studying at UBonn for two years and never really integrated in my year. Don't get me wrong, I like my fellow students. They're nice. And I appreciate school immensely. I just love doing a lot of other things, too, and my best friends live 450 miles away. Plus, I have always chosen intimate friendships over group hangs, even though friends is my favorite tv show.
Henning seems like he's the other friendship type. I always see him with the same four people. I think of them as a gang.
While most of my fellow students I met in the beginning but never went out with gave up on me after some time, Henning didn't change a thing. The others withdrew their hands, looked for someone else's to put them in and we were down to a friendly nodding. Henning's arms remained open, all the way through the four semesters. His "How are you?" comes with the warmest gaze, every time. He really wants to know. His eyes say: "Hey, there's space for you if you want it.", still, even if he hasn't gotten a response the last three times. Studying with him was a blessing because he is not only clever and incredibly disciplined, but his amazing personality shines through in that context, too: He's down for sharing his exam fears and helping others with theirs, he does not take criticism personally but he takes a minute, then either says "thanks for saying that, you're right!" or explains to you in the most patient and loving way why he thinks you're wrong. No, I don't know a lot about him. But I definitely am fond of him. Yesterday he came to my goodbye party. I got the chance to hold up a mirror to him there: 
He had sent me the sweetest message last week, saying that he digs this project and that it keeps reminding him of how important and good it is to meet people with an open heart. He thanked me for doing this. I received the message in a sad and stressed moment. It was written so beautifully that I started crying. I thought: "Seriously? I  make this guy remember to be open hearted? What a crazy world..:" To me, Henning seems like he doesn't even know how to close his heart. 
Being surrounded by this man has been a blessing. Hey Henning, I am glad about every single smile you sent out to me, every hi and every how are you. You have been reminding me of how important and good it is to meet people with an open heart. Thank you so much for doing this.

Who?
Mr Rhine
Where?
Europe, in this case: Andernach-Bonn, a 40 km distance
What?
"You are amazing. Beautiful, humbling, moving. Erotic, sweet, overwhelming.. And all other words there are to describe alive. Thank you for two incredible years."
How did he react?
He went with the flow...
How did I feel?
His soul has been around forever. He has seen it all. World wars, river pirates, heart break. Suicide, storms, summer stillness, winter ice. This guy cannot be shocked, he just flows on and on and on. Therefore sitting down by his side and handing him your burden helps, always. He is a good listener. Sometimes he waves at you through seagulls spreading their wings, sometimes he reminds you to be graceful by sending some swans that glide their way on his surface. He has your answer. Tears? Look, there is an awful lot of water these will dissolve in. Worries? Just listen to the wind and remember they will blow away when you're ready. Loneliness? Watch the bugs and birds, the fish and the rabbits and of course the waving seniors from their cruise ships and let life enter and comfort you. And if he remains silent maybe you don't need an answer but a retreat in one of Germany's most beautiful landscapes. No problem, he offers that, too.

My goodbye week has begun. Seven more days in Rhineland, then I am off. I am slowly starting to realize what I'll miss, how much there is. I have been commuting between Andernach and Bonn for a while and I am happy there are parts of my life here that I have lived to the fullest, one of them being the incredible nature. Along the Rhine there is a great bike hike trail, I have been cycling to school a lot. Time spent out there is worth it, always, every second. It clears my head. It brings great inspiration, I am active and in the most lively surrounding that gives creative input and calms down at the same time. Perfect frame for coming up with ideas and plans, separating the profound sensations from the mind garbage, tidying up my inside all by breathing and taking in the stunning visuals. And pedaling, of course. Along the way there are countless pieces of eye candy: Medieval castles on hills, colorful flowers and autumn leaves, blue creeks, yellow fields, alleys, benches that are occupied by old couples or teenage dates, vineyards and cliffs, and every now and then a biker couple wearing matching clothes and bags, riding matching bikes and drinking from matching water bottles. 
I am going to miss them.

Everything which is honest is beautiful. This I believe to be true. Whenever I get to the bottom of things like a fight's hidden feelings, a real feature of someone's face that's been covered by make-­up, even a scream or a shout or a stamp where its expression is authentic I sigh and sense relief. Revealing life liberates. 
If i am right saying that everything which is honest is beautiful then nature must be personified beauty. For what could be more honest than nature? It is always real, it never pretends. Finding it's own rules and updating them continually. Meanwhile sounding, feeling, tasting, smelling so rich and sublime, so aesthetic while figuring out and following these rules! Whorls, straight lines, circles, curls just look at the visual part of it, at all that imperfection, that never ending process of creating, growing, changing directions, starting over, and finally dying which in itself is perfection. Yes, the river and his country say "change" at every inch you look at­ yet it's heaviness and the broad channel tell a story of stability, too. He has his habits and his traits, they return year after year: The past thaw flood. The springtime duck babies, swimming in rank and file. The moist smell of sweet water in the summer heat. The berries in late summer, the apples and countless walnut trees in the fall. (Speaking of which: It is harvest season now, the yield is crazy. Go for a walk if you happen to live here, and take some bags with you. Find a stick and start your treasure hunt under the first walnut tree you spot! You won’t regret it). All the way through the year there are the hills, rising right and left of the water, like beautiful ladies' breasts, perfectly shaped in their uniqueness. They wear different clothes from season to season, a snowy white dress, then a light green fine rip vest, a full on green cover and finally the fall color explosion evening robe. Meanwhile the Rhine gently touches the bosom, caressing it every day of the year. What a lover! 
He is innovative. Honest in his expression. Pragmatic, literally down to earth. Still aesthetic. Seductive. Sexy. With all his material presents he endows his admirers. The Rhine is so much more than the wise and empathetic listener I see in him most of the time. In fact, he is the perfect man. How could I ever leave him? Honestly, I don't think I can. Before I moved here I didn't know a landscape like this existed in Germany. Now that I have lived in the heart of it I will keep coming back for it. I have fallen for this Rhine guy and I'll never let him go. But being the wise man he is I know if he heard me say all this he would tell me I shouldn't worry, that he'll always be there if I need him. He would ask me to hug him one last time­ and then let go. Because change is what it all comes down to, who teaches us if not nature. Change is the Rhine's message day by day, year by year. In all his steadiness. Thank you, Rhine. Living with you has been a wonderful gift, each and every day. You are a great teacher and plain beauty. I am so grateful to have met you.

Who?
Hans
Where?
Cologne, Germany
What?
"Four compliments: 
1. Amazing clothes!
2. Competent fruit talk.
3. Beautiful goods you're selling there.
4. Great accent."
How did he react?
He nodded. Listened to all of them, grinned slightly. Looked down, looked up, looked me in the eye and said, "joah... joah.." (which is similar to "ya.. ya...")
How did I feel?
Hans was special. Walking down a farmer's market in Cologne I spotted him from far away. He was wearing a hat and full-on traditional clothes. Busy talking to some customers about his vegetables and fruits he didn't hear me out for a few minutes. Good thing he took his time because that way I got to eavesdrop on his recommendations on how to store the food and when and where to plant or buy it. He was one of those specialists who mix passion with years and years of experience and make you want to sit down, listen to them forever and soak it all in. Another reason I wished he wouldn't stop talking for was his outstanding accent. According to Hans he spoke High German. According to my ears he didn't. All it took was one word from him for me to know he was from Cologne. But the fact that I was able to understand everything he said proves he wasn't speaking proper Kölsch, the Cologne dialect, either because as soon as someone does that I am lost. Kölsch is Germany's most difficult accents, it is close to being it's own language, somewhere between Dutch and German. The Kölsch even have their own constitution: 

• Et es wie et es: Es ist wie es ist. = Things are the way they are. (That’s life.)
  
• Et kütt wie et kütt: Es kommt wie es kommt. = It’ll come as it is. (Don’t worry about it.)
  
• Et hätt noch immer jot jejange: Es ist immer noch gut gegangen. = Eventually it's always gone well.
  
• Wat fott es es fott: Was fort ist ist fort. = What is done cannot be undone. (Live with it and stop complaining.)
  
• Nix bliev wie et wor: Nichts bleibt wie es war. = Nothing stays the way it used to be. (Be open-minded to the new and unknown.)
  
• Kenne mer nit, bruche mer nit, fott domet: Kennen wir nicht, brauchen wir nicht, fort damit. = We don't know it, we don't need it, we get rid of it! 
  
• Wat wellste maache?: Was willst du machen? = What more can do you? (This is done and you can’t change anything.)
  
• Mach et jot äwer nit ze off: Mach es gut aber nicht zu oft. = Live life to the fullest- but not too often. (Drinking and partying rocks but make sure to maintain a healthy balance with the rest of your life)
  
• Wat soll dä Quatsch?: Was soll der Quatsch? = What’s the problem? (What the fuck!?)
  
• Drinkste ene met?: Trinkst du einen mit? = Down for a drink?
• Do laachste dech kapott: Da lachst du dich kaputt. = This makes you crack up! 

Hans told me he was still cultivating his lands in Zündorf, just outside of Cologne. Those fields are where his goods grow. Chatting with him was inspiring, I bet he has a ton of amazing stories to tell. He definitely spread that mysterious, wise and yet playful vibe some old people have. Find him on Tuesdays and Thursdays until 1:15 PM at the farmer's market near the Neptunbad in Ehrenfeld, Cologne.

Who?
Sabrina
Where?
Cologne, Germany
What?
"I just saw you from a hundred feet away and your laugh bowled me over. It's wonderful, please keep it."
How did she react?
Surprised yet open. I think she was overwhelmed for a second. Then she smiled and said: "Wow, thank you!"
How did I feel?
Good! Sabrina was chatting with a friend, I could tell the conversation burst with positive vibes though I didn't hear a word they were saying. I was standing at a plaza in Cologne, looking for a compliment candidate. I couldn't stop watching the two of them laughing and smiling at each other. Sabrina laughed showing her teeth, her whole face beaming. I went up to her an complimented her, she was very sweet. When she opened her mouth to give thanks she revealed her angelic voice. I would have loved to listen to her speak some more because it was a real treat, her voice felt like a caressing to my ears. 
That I have been realizing lately: Whenever I find something beautiful about a stranger and I go and tell them I will spot a bunch of other wonderful traits of theirs as soon as we interact. My guess is it has got to do with the observer's (in that case, me) level of allowing and devoting and the opponent's level of being in contact which means communicating more of themselves, openly or encoded. As soon as I am in the "seeing-the-beauty" sphere within myself and I start interacting with someone I feel them and their rays of sunlight more intensely than ever, first because I am open to it and second because they are more present with me than before (when we did not talk yet). 
Sabrina was the perfect example because I got to love her laugh and her voice and her humble openness, a kind of hidden curiosity which I thought was very lovable. I wouldn't have gotten a glance at the latter two if I hadn't gone up to her. So glad I did!
Anything else?
Yup yup! THREEHUNDRED TO GO! Check!