Do you know what life really is? It begins on an empty stage: the Big Bang. Stardust dancing, galaxies budding while the universe learns to breathe. Then, in that primordial sea, a living fragment emerges: a single cell, tiny, fearless. It divides, multiplies, conquers the planet unhurried, to the ancient rhythm of survival. Green algae appear, plants breathing new skies, the seas fill with creatures in armored shells, dinosaurs reign for millions of years until their fall, like a curtain closing. Slowly, the curtain opens again: curious mammals, cunning primates, monkeys learning to use stones and sticks, with the spark of thought already alight in their brains. And then us: Homo sapiens, proud of an intelligence as vast as the cosmos, able to cultivate fields, forge metals, write poems suspended between love and fear of the infinite. We build cities, bridges, spaceships, theories on the origin of everything. But when we’re born, we immediately forget our stellar lineage. First tear: a cold hospital ward. First smile: the comfort of milk. And then… we’re thrust into the meat grinder of shifts, payslips, bills to pay, taxes to declare. We’re taught to measure time in work hours, to count days in rigid rhythms, to measure the value of an idea by the profit it can yield. We built machines to lift the weight of tasks, only to become slaves to the very rhythms we invented. Waking at dawn to grab a coffee, chasing emails and appointments as if they were prayers. Meanwhile, the memory of that first single cell lies buried under mountains of paperwork. That slow heartbeat that multiplied life has become a distant echo, a didactic fable. Yet within each of us there remains a fragment of infinity: the curiosity that drives us to gaze at the stars, the longing to create something that outlasts one client’s payment, the nostalgia for the silence before the first breath. We close our eyes and feel it: the pulse of a primordial time, the caress of an era when the only tax was the sun, and wealth was measured in breath and light. It may seem a distant dream, but it isn’t. Just one step back from the desk, a gesture of outstretched arms to the sky, a moment to ask yourself: “Why am I running?” Not to reject progress, but to remember where we come from so we can decide where to go. We can measure success in smiles, not just numbers. Because life began with a cosmic dance, and deserves to end with a bow to wonder. Even if, for a moment, we switch off the clock and listen to the secret heartbeat that created us.