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I have an offer you cannot refuse. Apart from IQ, EQ and all the other Qs, one more intellect type should earn recognition. SQ stands for sensitivity intellect. It can be used to predict how likely you are to lose your breath in presence of remarkable beauty. Sharp eye, insatiable curiosity, high sensitivity of all five senses and the voluntary will to blend with the spirit of the place, letting it touch your heart and cause some irreversible changes... this is all necessary for a high SQ. SQ is a double-sided sword. On the one hand, it lets you get the most of the main currency of travelers: impressions. On the other, you are very vulnerable. It was night and I was alone, held gently in the palms of Adirondack mountains, very close to the stars. As I realized that the constellations were different from the ones I was used to, I was stabbed by sharp loneliness. "Et tu, Brute?", I would say to the stars. "You, the most constant thing in the world?" I was 15 and I crossed half the planet to come to the U.S. as an exchange student. My high SQ was a generous sponsor of my mood´s roller-coaster. Thousands of teeny-tiny differences I noticed between my home country and the U.S. could make me feel like an adventurer, a discoverer... or a complete stranger. Trees had different shades, plants had different shapes, the very air of the summer evening had a different aroma. Any person who exposes himself to the the wilderness of the night feels melancholic enough. I felt twice as melancholic. No, three times as much if we take into account me being an alienated teenager. None but my nightmare came to the rescue. The only book I ever read about the Appalachian mountains was Stephen King's "The Girl That Loved Tom Gordon". It's basically a story about a girl being lost in the woods and having a bear for an enemy. I was mortified by this idea and found it to be King's most horrifying fantasy. There is no rescue from a bear. I run and he runs faster. I climb a tree and he climbs the tree. I sit still and he eats me. You get the logic. This bear was leaning against the tree and watched me silently and almost lazily, as if he was a school bully waiting for me to make a wrong move. It rubbed its back up and down on tree trunks, yawned and came closer. Luckily, I recalled not only my whole life story, but also one article concerning bears. "If you’re wearing a hat, gently waft it in the bear’s direction, so that he can smell that you are a human being". I took off my Yankees baseball hat and made a clumsy move that reminded of a curtsy. The bear oinked. I recalled that in presence of a bear one should act as a clown. Dance, clap hands, sing and shine lights. I did all of that. The bear seemed very much amused. He sat next to me. I sat down. The night was silent. I looked attentively and noticed every single detail. His roman profile, his claws... yet again his claws... There was something alien to him. He was SO different from any person I ever had a late date with, that my sensitivity should have already caused me fainting. Yet he cured me. Spending an hour side to side with this speechless yet friendly local, I finally obtained what I've been struggling to find. The feeling that no matter the location of constellations or belonging to different species... there is something strong that unites us on the deepest of levels. It battles sadness that comes from our alienation and grants us the freedom to celebrate the differences.