You will not know that she struggles with chronic illness, with a depression that haunts her life like a moon, waxing to pain, waning to darkness, and that it's taking all her strength to hold on to the dream of a university degree, even though she can't imagine her future clearly. You will not suppose all the bandages on her brain.
And you will not know that he has to take a deep, unsteady breath before he talks to anyone, and that his father never had time for him, and that he hugs a pillow when he sleeps because otherwise the chips and shreds of old, cold sorrows that embed his heart will stir, and stab him from within. You might not remember that he isn't a gender, nor a representative of the patriarchy, just a person.
All these things you might get wrong, because you are a tangled-up, intricate, uncertain, vulnerable, real person too.
SONDER: the realisation that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own. (John Koenig)