A familiar view can record change more patiently than the person living beside it.

Change that happens slowly is almost invisible to whoever is standing closest to it. The tree outside the window grows, the skyline fills in, the paint fades, and none of it announces a day when it became different. Living beside something means seeing it fresh each morning against yesterday rather than against a decade ago. The view holds the whole record; you only hold the most recent frame.

Find an old photograph of a place you see constantly, or of yourself, and put the two side by side. It is a cheap way of noticing progress you have been living inside and discounting.