Hirayama lives in a small, tidy house. He gets up early, waters his plants, and drinks his coffee calmly. He gets into the van that takes him to work, listens to music, and watches the light filtering through the leaves of the trees. He spends his days cleaning public toilets in Tokyo, places of passage where people come and go without really stopping. In the evening, he reads a few pages of a book before going to sleep. His days are similar yet never empty.
In Perfect Days, a JapaneseGerman film released in Italian cinemas in January 2024, almost nothing extraordinary happens, and that is precisely what is striking. The protagonist’s life is simple, quiet, almost invisible. It could slip by without leaving a trace. Looking closely, however, it appears surprisingly livedin, dignified, and full. Not because it is exposed to the gaze of many, but because it is per meated by an authentic presence to himself and others.
The theme of visibility is central to human existence because it reflects our deep desire to be acknowledged by others. In today’s world, this need for visibility is often conflated with notions of originality, success, and appearance. Many equate being visible with standing out, distinguishing oneself, and achieving success. However, Hirayama’s story illustrates that visibility is not merely about what is seen but rather about meaningful encounters. A person’s life can be humble and quiet yet still hold significant value; conversely, one can be highly visible yet remain deeply anonymous.
Today, opportunities for visibility are everywhere. We can share our stories and fragments of our lives at any moment. Yet, despite this constant exposure, many people experience a deep sense of anonymity. It is more than loneliness; it is the feeling that we matter to no one. Our identity is not shaped by what we display but by being recognized as unique and significant in another person’s life. Visibility means being seen; recognition means being encountered. The former can be brief and impersonal, while the latter is always relational. The deeper problem of contemporary anonymity is not a lack of visibility but a lack of genuine encounter. Meaningful attention — attention that remembers, values, and acknowledges us — is increasingly rare. This gives rise to a quiet but profound fear: the fear of being nothing to anyone.
This anxiety takes different forms throughout life. In youth, it may appear as a fear of being forgotten, a need for exposure, or a desire to be constantly present in order to feel real. In adulthood, it often takes the quieter form of achievement and productivity: we are valued for what we do rather than for who we are. In later years, it can emerge as a sense of uselessness, loss of purpose, or feeling easily replaced. Though the stages of life change, the need remains the same: to be recog nised. If true recognition comes not from visibility but from genu ine encounter, then it challenges how we relate to others. The ans wer is not to do more or draw more attention to ourselves, but to adopt a different way of being with others. Moving from visibility to encounter requires a change of perspective and a deeper quality of relationship. This can happen quietly, thro ugh a few essential steps that we can describe with three simple ‘Ps’.
Presence. Recognition occurs when someone is present consist ently over time. It does not require a performing or always brilliant pre sence, but rather a reliable one, cap able of returning and remaining even through repetition. Only when someone is unafraid to show up can the gaze linger and allow for a true encounter.
Particularity/Uniqueness. Being recognized means being seen as particular/unique—not merely as a role, function, or image. This requires a quiet but determined renunciation: letting go of the desire to be for everyone and instead being for someone truly. In embracing uniqueness, the bond formed is irreplaceable.
Permanence. Authentic recognition leaves a lasting impression. Someone remembers us, keeps us in their thoughts, and thinks of us even when we are not present. This is not about continuous exposure, but rather about a lasting connec tion. It is this enduring presence in another’s gaze that protects us from the depths of anonymity.
True change arises not from seeking increased visibility, but from nurturing encounters that en dure. A life can be discreet, silent, and unassuming, but if someone has genuinely seen it, it will never be considered ordinary.