Early hours, warm silence, sense of ownership, quietness around, unpressed moments.Flowing through a natural path, disassociation of paradigms, unfolded sequences.Innate rotation, unplanned moves. Motion at its purest form.


Early hours, warm silence, sense of ownership, quietness around, unpressed moments.

Flowing through a natural path, disassociation of paradigms, unfolded sequences.

Innate rotation, unplanned moves. Motion at its purest form.

Ode to those early routines where untold voices are telling our story each day, those slow movements dancing around, that soft light yet covering our darkness from a night before. Those unappreciated moments in life. Easy hours. Sense of motion.


Ode to those early routines where untold voices are telling our story each day, those slow movements dancing around, that soft light yet covering our darkness from a night before. Those unappreciated moments in life. Easy hours. Sense of motion.

Reflections.


Reflections.

I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.
Whatever I see I swallow immediately
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.
I am not cruel, only truthful,
The eye of a little god, four-cornered.
Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.
It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long
I think it is part of my heart. But it flickers.
Faces and darkness separate us over and over.

— Sylvia Plath

That unconscious early thought in your mind.That unassociated slow movement in your bones. That early and first motion in your body.Slow awakening.


That unconscious early thought in your mind.

That unassociated slow movement in your bones.

That early and first motion in your body.

Slow awakening.

I’ve been finding relief during those early hours while the world is still quiet and the motion is perceived as a smooth flow.First shadows and first motion.--


I’ve been finding relief during those early hours while the world is still quiet and the motion is perceived as a smooth flow.

First shadows and first motion.

--

Enjoying every available minute from my early hours each day. That sensation of innate flow, that feeling of lack of pressure, that freedom on each step. Those messy thoughts, that unaligned sensation. That unconscious path we walk every day.


Enjoying every available minute from my early hours each day. That sensation of innate flow, that feeling of lack of pressure, that freedom on each step. Those messy thoughts, that unaligned sensation. That unconscious path we walk every day.

Between early cups of coffee and early dosis of words.Called balance.-- La routine.


Between early cups of coffee and early dosis of words.

Called balance.

--

La routine.

Une chambre qui ressemble à une rêverie, une chambre véritablement spirituelle, où l'atmosphère stagnante est légèrement teintée de rose et de bleu.L'âme y prend un bain de paresse, aromatisé par le regret et le désir. - C'est quelque chose de crépu…


Une chambre qui ressemble à une rêverie, une chambre véritablement spirituelle, où l'atmosphère stagnante est légèrement teintée de rose et de bleu.

L'âme y prend un bain de paresse, aromatisé par le regret et le désir. - C'est quelque chose de crépusculaire, de bleuâtre et de rosâtre; un rêve de volupté pendant une éclipse.

— Charles Baudelaire

--

Early hours, after darkness ruling outdoors. First shadows of day balancing our slow steps. Messy thoughts still dancing in my mind. That magical routine of getting my senses up. Allocating of lights.The flow of motion.


Early hours, after darkness ruling outdoors. First shadows of day balancing our slow steps. Messy thoughts still dancing in my mind. That magical routine of getting my senses up. Allocating of lights.

The flow of motion.

Unplanned remediations for unaccomplished situations, mitigation as learning. To a better flow.


Unplanned remediations for unaccomplished situations, mitigation as learning. To a better flow.

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La Brisa


En su retiro de algodón,
con suave aliento, duerme el aura:
en su nido de seda y lana,
el aura de alegre mentón

Cuando el aura levanta su ala,
en su retiro de algodón
y corre do la flor lo llama
su aliento es un fruto en sazón.

¡Oh, el aura quintaesenciada!
¡Oh, quinta esencia del amor!
¡Por el rocío enjugada,
qué bien me huele en el albor!

Jesús, José, Jesús, María.
Es como el ala de un halcón
que invade, duerme y apacigua
al que se duerme en oración.

— Arthur Rimbaud

Slowly getting back to personal early routines. Feels good to stay away from early calls.Feels the motion.-


Slowly getting back to personal early routines. Feels good to stay away from early calls.

Feels the motion.

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