There is a particular hour, just before the sun collapses behind the seawall, when the light seems to slow. The concrete warms. The salt on the balustrade catches fire for a moment and then extinguishes itself. A hurrying idea: start measuring the day by that hour.
Made most of the "No Space" single in a room. When I passed the door, the sea was still there, unhurried. That is the tempo I tried to keep.
Slowness is not the absence of movement. It is the refusal to move for its own sake. Stand still for a moment and breathe life.
SALT/CONCRETE← All entries