In a world that’s constantly go-go-going, stillness can feel almost impossible to find. Moments to pause and breathe. Times to be quiet and notice what you notice. Or simply let it all slip away and rest in that liminal, in-between space.

Our bones are made of stardust—and so are the rocks. The breath filling our lungs is released into the air, drawn in by the leaves outside the window, transformed into oxygen again to fill the lungs of the bird perched on the branch. The mycelial web beneath our feet mirrors the invisible tangle of relationship that holds us: to each other, to the more-than-human world, to time itself.