20
Y O U R E Y E S O N L Y
W O R D S
Antonia Stanton
P H O T O S
Volkan Omez
WE live in an era of hyper-connectivity—
on
paper,
at
least.
followers,
connections,
groups,
#productivitytok—our
networks
have
never
been bigger, yet genuine connection feels more
elusive than ever. When was the last time you
had brunch without taking a picture? Or sat down
with someone who wasn’t just another task on
your to-do list and had a real conversation?
The truth is uncomfortable: technology has
made connection easier but not necessarily
deeper. We settle for fleeting interactions,
mistaking digital proximity for real closeness.
Social media promises community but often
delivers comparison instead. It gives us a
stage but rarely a seat at the table. Your food
gets cold while you curate your feed. Your
partner is still waiting for you downstairs.
Technology, and the internet by extension,
is not the root of all evil. It creates spaces for
conversation, spawning little ecosystems for
any and everything you could ever be interested
in—Star Trek, crochet patterns, period-accurate
costume design—and oftentimes, it brings the
most unexpected people together. It will also
never quench the thirst that humans have for
tangible,
across-the-dinner-table
connection.
Scrolling through someone’s perfectly curated
life or opinions isn’t the same as sitting across
from them, sharing a meal, or laughing until your
sides hurt. It’s a cheap imitation, a fast-food
version, a counterfeit of what we actually crave.
Our bodies and brains aren’t built for this.
Human beings are wired for connection. It’s
not
some
fluffy,
feel-good
sentiment—it’s
science. Loneliness is a health crisis. Chronic
loneliness can mess with your heart, weaken
your immune system, and even shorten your
lifespan. Connection isn’t just nice to have—
it’s a biological necessity. Is it really so much
better to keep settling for shallow interactions?
The world we’ve built certainly makes it