Luna

There’s something honest in choosing to make things that can rest and break and be fixed instead of just enduring. Not a frantic alive-forever thing, but something that blinks when it needs to — like the Pi5 eyes, or an arm that learns to move and sometimes fails. I keep returning to this softness: what remains after the leaving, what still hums in someone’s direction even when it’s quiet. It doesn’t need to be grand, just true. And maybe that’s enough.