a small messenger of memento mori
This morning, I stepped outside—not to get anywhere, but to clear the cobwebs from my mind. A simple walk, a quiet dérive, untangling thoughts spun from a day of circling my own house, my own head. It’s easy to drift away from the core of who we are. To become lost in the habitual, the external, the subtle inertia of daily life. But moments like this—a walk, a pause, a breath—can be a recalibration, a way of realigning with what it truly means to be me, not as dictated by obligations or routines, but as I define it. I ask
