This morning, I’m sitting in my in-laws’ conservatory in Bristol, morning light filtering through glass while the rest of the house sleeps. Coffee steam rises between me and the quiet, and somewhere in this threshold…
Posts TaggedPierre Hadot
When the Student is Ready
I’m writing this from my garden chair, the evening air finally offering some relief from the heat that made today’s journey to London feel like a pilgrimage through fire. My legs are stretched out, Pierre…