A thought about what the perfect slow, sensitive, quiet life is like.

Slowly, slowly, I’m starting to comprehend what the building blocks look like beyond their surface value.

When you’re sensitive, I think you’re also an epicure, a sensualist, an aesthete who derives immense pleasure from things being finely tuned to a specific degree, when the body and the mind alike can enjoy an experience.

You’re innately tuned into detail and appreciate when someone is as focused on the little things as you are.

Because they matter, often it’s the stuff in the details that makes or breaks something.

And this obsession with living a modern life which is zoned into productivity and efficiency, maximising the bang for your buck like life is some kind of curated experience you purchase at the gate to this world before your arrive, is the antithesis of a life lived by crafting it day after day, year after year, decade after decade.

Long-term projects, not short term profits.

Sitting down with a favourite book rather than mindlessly scrolling feeds.

Life long goals that give purpose and direction to life, not snorting a line to live a decade’s worth in just a year and then going up in flames.

Enjoying the little things that come every day and working to curate the experiences you want in your life, rather than thinking they can be found in a package deal being hawked like a group holiday to Greece.

This isn’t a complete idea, by any stretch of the imagination, but it’s starting to slowly take shape.

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