05AUG
There is a kind of silence that lives in the morning, before the world remembers to ask things of you. I stood in the studio today and felt the light before I saw it—that soft grey almost-turning-gold, falling on concrete floors, on the coat I hadn't yet put on. I move differently here. Slower. Not because I have to, but because something in me wants to memorize it.
Mood: Contemplative, still, quietly luminous