When I was young, there was a carousel in the town’s fairground. Its vibrant horses and mesmerizing tunes drew children in like moths to a flame. Each rotation, though identical, brought inexplicable joy, as if the cyclical motion held a secret promise of timeless happiness. That carousel, echoing the circular joys of my childhood, often makes me reflect on the trajectory of human life.
Time, in its unyielding march forward, has a cruel irony at its core. We live our lives in a series of linear moments, one following another, always moving ahead. Yet deep within, our very essence craves not advancement but return, not novelty but the familiar.
Image created by author using MidJourney
Why is it that we seek comfort in the rhythmic cadence of waves on a shore or the predictable orbit of celestial bodies? It’s because, despite our journey being a straight line, our hearts are in constant search of circles.