I like to think I’m a fairly tolerant person.

I live in a big city. I’ve learnt patience. I’ve learnt to mind my business. I’ve learnt that everyone is fighting their own battles and that judging people rarely leads anywhere useful.

And yet.

There are things I quietly judge. Internally. Silently. With no intention of ever saying them out loud.

Slow walkers are at the top of the list. Especially the ones who walk in groups, side by side, taking up the entire pavement like it belongs to them. Bonus points if they suddenly stop in the middle of the sidewalk to check their phone or continue a story that absolutely could have waited ten more seconds.

People who stand right in front of train or lift doors and refuse to move when others are trying to get out. I watch this happen and genuinely wonder how we all survived as a species.

Loud phone conversations in public spaces deserve their own category. Speakerphone on full volume. Deeply personal details. No awareness that the rest of us did not consent to being part of this discussion. I don’t want to know who cheated on whom or why your cousin hasn’t replied yet. I really don’t.

There’s also the art of walking while scrolling. Eyes glued to the screen. Body moving on autopilot. Zero spatial awareness. I’ve developed Olympic-level dodging skills because of this. At this point, it’s survival.

Then there are people who treat cafés like offices but forget that cafés are still shared spaces. Zoom calls. Loud typing. Furniture rearranged. I admire the confidence, but I quietly sip my coffee and judge.

To be clear, I’m aware that I’m probably someone else’s quiet judgement too. I walk fast. I wear headphones. I move through the city with intention, and that kind of energy isn’t always inviting to everyone. Fair enough.

But these tiny, unspoken judgements don’t come from anger. They come from observation. From spending time alone in public spaces and noticing patterns. From moving through the city with awareness and wishing, occasionally, that others would do the same.

At the end of the day, I still let it go. I walk around it. I move past it. I return to my own rhythm.

And I can’t help but wonder, are the things we quietly judge really about other people, or are they just reflections of how we want the world to move around us?

— Raulito