Perception of Space & Time

“No, come on, I’m not flying there. Are you joking? 25 hours on a plane to get to the other side of the world? It’s too far, it’s a lifetime away…”

That’s what my friend said to me the other day when I invited her to spend the Summer in Australia.
And honestly? Ten years ago, I would’ve said the same.

But now?

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about how I experience space.

Not the kind I design in a layout, I mean real, physical distance. Geography. The feeling of being far away from somewhere… or not.

I was born in Italy.
I’ve lived in Australia.
I’ve explored Southeast Asia.
And now, I’m back in Europe. But somehow… nothing feels far.

Australia doesn’t feel like “the other side of the world.”

Thailand doesn’t feel foreign.

Even the shift between time zones feels more like jet lag than disconnection.
So I started asking myself:

Why doesn’t anything feel far anymore?
When did the concept of distance lose its weight?

It’s not that the miles have changed; I have.

Or maybe the world has.

Airports, Zoom calls, eSIMs, remote work, instant messages… everything is connected. I can talk to a client in Sydney at 10 a.m., chat with a friend in London over lunch, and wrap up a project for New York by the time I’m sipping tea in a Chiang Mai café.

Even switching mobile plans is instant, one tap and I’m “local” again.

My body is in one country, but my day belongs to many.
And in that blur, distance stopped feeling distant.

It’s not about geography anymore.

It’s about presence.

Connection.

Access.

I don’t feel far from people or places, because they live in my phone, my work, my memories. But if space feels smaller…

———————————————————————-

What’s happening to time?

That’s the other thing I’ve been thinking about.

Just last week, during a client call, we were chatting about life, you know, one of those conversations that sneak up on you. And he said:

“When I was a kid, time felt endless. Now? It disappears.”

And I felt it in my bones.
Same.
When we’re young, time is expansive.
A summer feels like a year. Waiting for your birthday is agony.

Everything is slower, fuller, alive.

Now? I blink and it’s July.

I’m in meetings, jumping between projects, hopping between cities, and sometimes I genuinely don’t know what day it is.

So again, I ask:

Why does time speed up as we grow older?

Are we moving too fast, or just paying less attention?

Maybe it’s something deeper.

When we were kids, we had to focus, to learn, to absorb, to make sense of the world. Every day brought a new experience, a new emotion, a new lesson. That’s what made time feel full.

But maybe now, as adults, we stop learning with the same intensity. We take things for granted. We rely on routines. We assume we know how things work.

Our emotions feel settled, shaped by who we’ve already become.

So time slips by… not because it’s faster, but because we stopped treating it like something new.

And maybe, that’s what needs to change.
As a designer, I think about white space , how it gives balance, rhythm, breath.

And I wonder: are we leaving any white space in our lives?
Or are we filling every corner so tightly that everything starts to blur?

I’m learning to pause more.
To walk without my phone.
To feel where I actually am.
To take in the air of each place, not just pass through it.

It’s subtle. But I want to reconnect with time and space in a more grounded way.

Maybe you’ve felt this too.

That sensation of being everywhere and nowhere.

That feeling that your days are full, yet strangely forgettable.

That you’re always busy, but not always present.

If you have, I’d love to know:

How do you experience distance and time today?
Do they feel real to you, or a little bit slippery like they do to me?

———————————————————————-

Veronica,
Currently in London.

“Where the city moves faster than my thoughts, and time slips between the footsteps.“