This wasn’t just an article — it was a cry of the soul, conversing not with the speed of time, but with its silent depth.
In the eyes of a fakir, time is not a ticking clock — it is a breath.
While the world runs to catch time, he simply feels it.
"I knew it yesterday, but I haven’t needed it since" — in this one line flows a meditative river.
Thank you for this quiet, beautiful rebellion.
Sometimes, the question of time is not "when", but "why."

Emotional, artistic, and deeply profound