Watch the backyards slide past a train window. Thousands of lives as full as yours, three seconds each.

Everybody you pass has an interior as crowded as yours. From a train you get three seconds of a backyard with a trampoline and a line of washing, and inside that house is somebody mid-argument, somebody in love, somebody worried about a test, all of it as vivid to them as your week is to you. You are the three-second blur in their story too.

Pick one person today and assume the full version. Ask the cashier, the new kid or your uncle a real question, and listen as though the answer is the main event.