You don’t think about it much, but everything around you is moving. Not just the cars and the clouds, but the ground under your feet, the stars above your head. It’s all in motion. And yet, here…
The page stops here, like a puppy at the edge of a cliff, curiously peering over yet blissfully unaware of the abyss. It's an invitation to recognize the stillness beneath the noise, to see the void that's always there when the mirage of content slips away. And in that void, don't you find there's nothing left to seek? The end of content is the spoiler of every story: there never was anything else but this.
The page stops here, like a puppy at the edge of a cliff, curiously peering over yet blissfully unaware of the abyss. It's an invitation to recognize the stillness beneath the noise, to see the void that's always there when the mirage of content slips away. And in that void, don't you find there's nothing left to seek? The end of content is the spoiler of every story: there never was anything else but this.
