⚡️⏳ I read a fascinating article about how our perception of time evolves with age. For example, a summer at age 10 feels like it lasts forever, while at 60, it passes in the blink of an eye. This phenomenon is partly explained by a logarithmic logic: at 10, a summer represents a significant fraction of one’s life, whereas at 60, it accounts for only a tiny part.

As we age, another factor comes into play: repetition. Daily routines (such as commuting or household chores) become more frequent, and the brain, having become an expert at managing these familiar experiences, processes them automatically—almost unconsciously. This efficient processing reduces the amount of detail stored in long-term memory. Unlike the vivid childhood memories full of novelty (first day of school, first bike ride), routine moments leave few lasting traces. As a result, days, weeks, even years seem to blur together, accelerating our perception of time. For instance, neuroscientist David Eagleman explains that our sense of time is closely tied to how much new information the brain encodes into memory: a child’s brain, eager for discovery, creates rich, detailed memories that “stretch” time, while an adult brain, accustomed to its surroundings, produces fewer dense memories.

Another neurological aspect involves the gradual slowing of the brain’s metabolism with age. Neural networks—though more efficient thanks to experience—may process information with slightly less temporal resolution, contributing to the sensation of time speeding up. Moreover, our attention to time itself changes: children live in the moment, immersed in the present, while adults—often focused on the future or the past—see time as a resource slipping away. This long-term orientation can heighten the feeling that days rush by without truly being lived.

All this to say that it's time for me to go to sleep. Time flies, one day follows another, and tonight again, I leave my thoughts here, in this corner of Nostr.

Good night to those who are reading, and who may notice a little silence in my absence…