I find myself reading books that smell a little like the past. Their pages are soft, worn in the corners, like me. I used to feel pressure to keep up with what's new, but now I find comfort in voices that

I used to move fast, even when I didn’t need to. Now my pace is slower, but it feels like I notice more. I see the cracks in the wall. The way the light falls at noon. I listen to my own breathing. That

the health of such an important organ as the pancreas