The world hums.Phones glow.Everyone’s talking —but no one’s listening. A mother pleads, unheard.A neighbour’s grief drifts past like static.Sirens blur into laughterfrom somewhere else.We keep walking. “Are you there?”“Do you listen?”The questions echo off glassand fall into silence. Even out in the fieldsyou can still hear it —that low, electric buzz.Engines. Screens.The hum that never stops. This is what it’s come to:so much noise,and yet nothing worth hearing. Then—a pause.A light through the door.Blue and gold.Warm hands.A chair pulled out for someone new. Here, people listen.Really listen.No filters.No noise.Just space. A wheel turns —not the metal kind,but one made of kindness,steady and shared. This is Rotary.Not power.Not pride.Just people showing…