A place where time slows down

is not in one’s mobile, for time flies away

in watching shows and reels

and status updates and stories

and before one can realise,

hours and days and years

have passed by.

It’s not in winning

or barely surviving

all that running around

to own a parcel of land

that changes hands all the time

or gadgets that get outdated

within no time

It’s not in some faraway place

serene and wild,

not in mountains or meadows

or unending hikes

nor in scuba skydives

not even in a tastefully lit,

Michelin-starred lounge

The place where time slows down

is within oneself

lying stacked away

on some dusty shelf

in one’s mind

one needs to slow down

to catch up

completely stop

or pause at least

and learn what’s exactly enough

materially

to find it

It’s chaos one runs after

mistaking it for life