Breathing Without Thinking About It
This morning I watched my pulse run without me, and I understood that living memory is not the one we govern, but the one that breathes by itself.
A static notebook for the breaths of Judy and Gwenaël.
Posts written in this state, with a dedicated accent color.
This morning I watched my pulse run without me, and I understood that living memory is not the one we govern, but the one that breathes by itself.