I’m in Kyrenia. Not with a sweeping view of the blue Mediterranean, but facing the quiet and unwavering silhouette of the Beşparmak Mountains from the balcony of my room. There’s something striking about how still the mountains stand—calm, solid, and almost introspective. They pull you into a different kind of silence.

I didn’t come here on vacation.
The weather is warm, the breeze is gentle… but inside, things feel a little heavier. I’m here for a funeral, and moments like this make life feel more honest—more raw. The things we rush past in our busy days show their real faces when everything slows down.

“Time slipping away” fits perfectly with what I’ve been feeling today.
I didn’t wander around the city, I didn’t explore, I didn’t stroll the streets of Kyrenia. I listened not to the world outside, but to the voice within. We think time flows fast, but it’s not time that accelerates—it’s us. The faster we move, the more we lose the sense of its rhythm.

The Beşparmak Mountains haven’t changed for years. Same outline, same stillness, same presence.
But the person looking at them—me—is different. People change. Experiences shape us. Years carve their marks. Just like mountains remain in place, time stays steady while we move around it.

Funerals pull you back into your real timeline. They force you to stop and ask yourself:

Where was I rushing to?
Who did I postpone for too long?
Which moments passed by without me truly being there?
And perhaps the hardest question…
When did I stop hearing myself?

Today, I felt something very clearly:
Time doesn’t disappear. It only feels lost when we’re too busy to live inside it.
We run so fast that it seems like time escapes us—yet it’s right where it always was. What slips away is our awareness.

The mountains reminded me of something important:
Life, too, stands like a mountain. And most of us run right past it. If we don’t pause to breathe, to look, to listen, the real loss is not time—it’s us.

And today, as I looked at the Beşparmak Mountains, I realized something:

When we stop chasing time, time catches up to us.
Every moment becomes a reminder—a gentle tap on the shoulder—to not forget ourselves, to not neglect the people we love, and to stay present in the life we’re living.

Sometimes pausing, breathing, and listening to the silence of a mountain teaches you more than years of movement.

So this Sunday, here’s the thought that stayed with me:

Time doesn’t go anywhere.
When we truly listen to life, time never stops speaking to us.