Nothing ever makes you think about the concept of time unless you think about how much you’ve wasted or how little you have. In my case, that would be all the time. Going to London, however, made it more apparent than usual. It seemed that time was both moving and at a standstill at the same time. You would stand in an area for ten minutes or sit in a quaint café sipping your coffee, and as you watched people in their sophisticated London couture walk by, half the day will be gone before you knew it.  There is no fighing it, the faster you try to move, London’s scale of time seems to always move faster. Eventually you learn to just deal with it and be the slowest moving person on the street, especially when you have no where specific you want to be. As I wander Soho, I see people rushing in and out of the Tube, speed walking down the street and rushing to order their coffee’s I can't help but wonder if anyone takes the time to memorize. You see when I go to a place I try to make an effort to memorize every step, every building, every street sign and even every brick. Of course everything is impossible but I think it’s the attempt that counts. I digress, as I watched these fast paced people I wonder if these Londoners ever try to do the same as I. At the end of the day, you're never going to be in the same place at the same time twice. If you are so aware of the time, can you schedule a moment to ‘smell the roses’ as well?