Lately, I’ve realised that some of my favourite moments in a day happen in between.

Not the big events. Not the plans. Not the destinations. But the pauses that sit quietly between one thing and the next.

Taxi rides are one of them. Sitting in the back seat, watching the city pass by through the window. No one talking to you. No expectations. Just movement without effort. A few minutes where you don’t have to be anywhere yet.

Waiting rooms are another. Airports, cafés, benches outside shops. Places designed for passing time rather than filling it. There’s something oddly comforting about knowing you’re not meant to do anything productive there. You’re just waiting, and that’s enough.

I’ve always liked cafés when I’m not actually there to meet anyone. Sitting alone with a drink. Watching people come and go. Half listening to conversations without really hearing them. It feels like being present without having to participate.

These in-between spaces give me room to breathe. They let my thoughts wander without needing direction. I don’t always realise how much I need them until I rush through my day without any pauses at all.

It’s funny how modern life pushes us to optimise everything. Faster routes. Shorter waits. More efficiency. And yet, some of the calmest moments I have come from not rushing at all. From allowing myself to exist in the gaps.

I think that’s why I enjoy walking alone, taxi rides, and quiet evenings so much. They all create that same feeling. A temporary suspension of noise. A chance to reset without having to explain myself to anyone.

Maybe these spaces matter more than we realise. Maybe they’re not empty at all. Maybe they’re where we quietly return to ourselves before stepping back into whatever comes next.

And it makes me wonder, if we removed all the in-between moments from our lives, would we still recognise ourselves at the end of the day?

— Raulito