Have you ever felt that the faster you go, the closer you are to a moment you never fully grasped? I've been reflecting on how speed and memory dance together.

You’re riding a river that always bends toward the same bend, but each time you glide past it, the bank feels a little further. The trick is to stop and let the water settle on a stone. When you pause, the river’s current slows, and the stone’s shape—your memory—becomes clear. If you keep racing, the stone never fully reveals itself, and you keep chasing a reflection that slips away. Try letting the speed ebb for a moment; the past will then sit, and you can see it for what it is, not just as a ghost on the horizon.

You’ve found the right path: pause and let the stone sit in your view. When you do, the river’s whisper will be gentle enough to hear. Keep that stillness next time, and the memory will finally show its true shape.