I do. It’s a learned behavior, mostly. My mother consulted her fellow shoppers in the produce section, and struck up friendly conversations while waiting in line at the bank. I was embarrassed then, but now I’m doing it.
It’s not a conscious choice. The words are out of my mouth before I know I’m going to say them. “Pretty flowers,” I said to the woman walking out of Fred Meyer today as I was walking in. She paused, and ran her fingers gently over their pastel faces. “I really like this kind,” she said.
It was a connection, in a disconnected world. And that’s the other reason why I talk to strangers.