by Apostolos Kotsabasis

I woke up at noon. I had nothing to do—for the first time in a long while. I didn’t feel any pressure. I let the sunlight in; it cast shapes on the wall. The day passed slowly. There is a harsh kind of beauty in dedicating time to yourself—no notifications, no digital conversations, no need to explain why you’re simply existing. In a society obsessed with multitasking, idleness feels like an act of resistance. A silent cry against a world that measures everything in likes. I thought of the Italian phrase il dolce far niente—the sweetness of doing absolutely nothing. A creative void. A calm reaction to the everyday rhythm. From the speaker plays “Hier encore, j’avais vingt ans”: Yesterday, I was twenty again, I had time—but I spent it on roles, achievements, illusions. And now it’s too late… But I’m still here, and it’s not too late—not yet. Perhaps this personal nirvana is a state that truly holds meaning. Perhaps, in the pause, we briefly find ourselves—before disappearing again behind screens and obligations.

Photo Courtesy of Warner Bros Pictures