You arrive and immediately feel that time works differently here.
Nothing pulls you. Nothing pushes you. Everything happens, pole pole. The light wakes up slowly. First behind the palm trees, then between the houses, then inside you. The heat does not press, it wraps around you. And the silence is not absence, it is presence.
Here, you walk without a destination. And that is rare. The days stretch out. They feel like weeks. Sometimes they feel like dreams. Other times like mirrors. You feel safe. Light. Strangely at home. The rhythm slows down so much that there is space to notice. The way people look at each other. The simplicity of gestures. The way life unfolds without any urgency to be something else.
There are moments of pure calm. And there are moments when discomfort appears, because slowness also reveals. When there are no distractions, you are left with yourself. And that requires presence. You realize that slowing down is not stopping. It is listening. It is accepting that not everything needs to be resolved. That some sensations only need to be felt.
The days pass. And somewhere in the middle of them, you stop wanting more. You see everything. You live everything. And that is enough. The island does not ask you to hurry. It asks you to surrender. And maybe that is what makes it special. It is not a place to conquer. It is a place to unlearn. Here, time does not run away. It stays with you.
