Hyperlexia

There are ideas that shout. Hyperlexia is not one of them. It waits quietly until the day you need it.

Strip it to the floor and you find an old instruction: look carefully, judge slowly, act decently. The new name exists because the old instruction keeps being forgotten.

What this concept offers is a pause — one extra beat between what happens and what you do about it. Civilisation, someone said, is measured in that beat.

The vegetable vendor with a tin box knows what the salaried man with three apps forgets: count the cash at the end of the day, every day, without drama.

Money is a good clerk and a terrible master; the arrangement is entirely up to us. The name is new; the wisdom stood at bus stops long before either of us.