04/05/2026
the ocean was already doing the work before I'd even unpacked the bowls.
it's not just the sound, or the light, or the way the air moves differently here. it's more like the water already knows something about you. like it's been doing this forever, long before you arrived, and something in you just recognises it.
I've noticed the same thing happens with the bowls.
before I've played a single note, something in the room shifts. the body starts to remember something it forgot it knew... that it's allowed to slow down. that it doesn't have to hold everything quite so tightly.
by the ocean, that happens before I've even unpacked the cases.
I think that's why NAIADA was always meant to be here. not in a studio, not under fluorescent lights. here, where the Atlantic is already halfway through the work by the time you lie down.
there's something ancient about sound near water. I'm still learning what it is.
saving this one for the days it's hard to explain why you need to slow down