There is something quietly fascinating about the human body that most of us rarely stop to notice. It knows how to stop. Drink water when you are thirsty, and at some point your body says “enough.” Not in words, but in feeling. You lose interest. The urge fades. Continuing becomes uncomfortable. Eat fruits or vegetables, and the same thing happens. There is a natural point of satisfaction. You do not need to negotiate with yourself. The body simply signals closure. Sleep works the same way. You cannot sleep indefinitely. At some point, you wake up rested or restless. Either way, the system resets itself. Even movement has limits. You can walk, run, or exercise—but fatigue eventually arrives. The body enforces balance without needing instruction. In many of the things that are good for us, there is a built-in stopping point. But modern life is not built the same way. Some of the most common experiences today do not naturally tell us when to stop. Scrolling does not end. Entert...
You attend a hike. Everyone’s laughing, taking selfies, posting about how amazing the trail is. But somehow, you feel lonelier than ever. Not because you’re shy or antisocial—but because everything feels… transactional. You join a book club. You go to an event. You reply to an ad. The energy is promising, the first few conversations hopeful—but eventually, it becomes a performance. Everyone wants to seem interesting, deep, well-read. Few want to simply be known. We live in a society that talks about the loneliness epidemic—but rarely admits the role we play in it. In Nairobi and beyond, Kenyans are struggling to make real friendships. Not surface-level connections. Not social capital. Real, mutual, honest-to-God friendships. So what’s going on? We’ve Turned Friendship into a Transaction Let’s be honest: Many of us are looking for connections that “make sense.” We scan the room and instinctively filter people: Can they help me get a job? Are they well-connected? Do they look like someon...