a life with more texture
Lately, I’ve noticed myself choosing objectively slower ways of doing things. I write things down that could live perfectly well in my phone. I keep physical journals when a notes app would be infinitely more searchable. I buy books knowing I could have them delivered without ever stepping into a bookstore and occasionally spend twenty minutes making matcha when I could have picked one up in five. None of this is efficient, which I suspect is becoming part of the appeal.
A physical book gets heavier on one side as you read it. Journal pages buckle slightly when too much has been pasted into them. Handwriting deteriorates halfway down the page. A recipe eventually opens to the right page on its own because you've made it so many times. There is something satisfying about making a drink slowly enough to have a little ritual around it, or wandering through a shop without already knowing exactly what you're there to buy.
None of this means the inconvenient version is inherently better. Sometimes a delivery is just a delivery and I would quite like my dinner now, thank you. I think I’m only becoming more selective about which inconveniences I’m willing to lose.
Because perhaps not everything that slows us down is getting in the way.
Some of it is the way.