I meditated a lot on the daily events and facts that pass us, where do they go after they happen, and what is the enormous storage in which they are archived, to be called when needed, in one day, or even in an hour or to be precise in one second, hundreds of events and situations that pass without return, but where they go I do not know. . I wondered who is moving, are we the ones who pass to fold time or does time move around us while we are fixed in our place?

Our perception of the time that slips through our fingers varies a lot according to our ages and the stage we live in, when we were young we did not have any sense of time and times passed very slowly and in a fatal order, we dreamed of the day when we would be mature adults, to take responsibility for ourselves, and to be independent, and the dream continues to grow inside us and our bodies grow with it, we rush the days and wish to drive a car and go to the market and buy what we need without the help of anyone.

When we were young we had no sense of time and the times passed very slowly and in a fatal order, we dreamed about the day when we would be mature adults to take responsibility for ourselves and be independent of life.

The days pass, childhood, adolescence and early youth pass, and as soon as the clock strikes thirty, time begins to move fast and we don't feel it either, and as soon as we break the threshold of forty, time itself, which was slow, begins to run like crazy.

The fifth decade comes to say, as was the case with those who came before us, "The days have been stripped of their blessing," and the sixtieth comes to make us feel that our days are riding a horse that runs at full speed towards old age and aging, the year that we used to see as very long feels like it passes in a month, and the month dwarfs until we think that no more than a week has passed, and so the world goes on. It's like a race against itself, and it stays that way until it reaches the finish line.

All scientists have said that aging is a great mystery and that the cells that make up our bodies carry their weaknesses before their strengths and attack themselves at a certain moment of age, and if we can dodge time and deceive those around us with elaborate powders shared by the perfumer and pharmacist, various surgeries and others, we cannot deceive our cells that we are still young. Truly, an apothecary does not fix what time has spoiled.