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hejka. that's hello. the small kind, the one you don't plan.
we came up in the hours nobody books. cold coffee. turpentine. a wall left half-painted, still wet. the street starts moving. we never stopped. a piano running on, something heavier holding it down. up on the roof the traffic sounds almost like the sea.
some of us still study. some of us teach. we lost track of which, and kept the work.
a line is a thought. a colour is a temperature. stone remembers the hand. a friend's track keeps the time. whatever we make of all that, it lands here. first the bones. then the colour, and only if it means it. nothing for show.
glad you found us.
