Journal
The first hour belongs to no one
No phone, no news, no plan: a cup of coffee and the light moving across the table. What happened when I kept one hour a day for nothing at all.
No phone, no news, no plan: a cup of coffee and the light moving across the table. What happened when I kept one hour a day for nothing at all.
A wooden chair, a good knife, one coat. What a smaller house taught me about choosing.
One story, one place and one thing worth making, delivered twice a month. Nothing more.