The stream of cars behind began to rush up, the horn squeezed and then burst out into crackling waves. A motorbike swerved close to the old man, almost brushing against the bicycle wheel. The driver turned around, dropped a harsh sentence and sped away. The old man did not react, just slightly tilted his head, as if trying to understand what had just happened.
In the next lane, another old woman leaned on a cane to cross the road. Every step of hers was a moment for the cars in front of her to stop. A few people looked anxious, they no longer honked their horns but shook their heads, frowned, their eyes clearly showing discomfort. A young man standing near him blurted out: "What are you going to do on the street for others to suffer these days?".
Scenes like that turned out to be very familiar. And he realized that he was once on the same side as those headshakes. When he was a little younger, he also thought that his rhythm of life was standard: Fast, neat, accurate. Whoever is slower is wrong, whoever is clumsy is troubled. People easily forget that their speed today will eventually slow down and anyone can make mistakes.
He has a friend who works in communications, is quick, sharp and also very hot-tempered. Once, he scolded a intern just for sending the wrong file. The girl stood still, her eyes red. Everything seemed small, but a few months later, he himself made a similar mistake in a big project. From that day on, the way he talked to others slowed down, became softer. Not because he changed his nature, but because he understood the feelings of the person in front of him.
But understanding alone is not enough. Because in everyday life, people are easily caught up in very instinctive reflexes, uncomfortable when waiting, annoyed when being bothered and hastily labeling others. Old people become symbols of slowness, people who make mistakes are considered sloppy, and people in difficulty are seen as incompetent. Those labels are convenient, but also cruel.
Once he went to take photos in an old apartment building. An old woman sat in front of the door, telling about the time when this place was still the pride of the whole neighborhood. She smiled, but her eyes looked like they were looking into a very far place. He realized that some people live in memories not because they don't want to move on, but because that is the last place they still feel complete.
Life is a circle that everyone eventually goes through all kinds of roles. Sometimes he is the one who steps fast, sometimes he is the one who has to stop. Sometimes he is steadfast, sometimes he needs a hand to catch him. And in those moments, what he needs from others is not judgment, but a little lightness.
