Little things are strange.
They rarely look important while they’re happening.
Too small to measure.
Too ordinary to praise.
And then one day, you notice something.
A rhythm you didn’t mean to build.
A familiarity you don’t remember practising.
A recognition that surprises you.
Not perfect.
Not complete.
But there.
That’s what fascinates me.
We talk about habits like they’re something we start.
But some of them form quietly,
without intention, without effort,
often without us even noticing.
And yet when we try to build something small on purpose,
it can feel heavy.
Like a chore.
Like something that demands attention instead of flowing into it.
Maybe that’s why little things are so easy to overlook —
and so hard to force.
They don’t ask to be managed.
They just repeat — until we notice.
And only later, when you look back,
do you realise something stayed.
Maybe the question isn’t
“What habit should I build?”
But
What has already been building me — without asking?