For days, every night when everyone is asleep I wake up and see pieces of the puzzle. Open my laptop and work on a geometric frequency. Step-by-step. Every evening slightly different, contradictory frequencies and becoming one again and repeats, just like breathing.
Connecting the last ends tonight and I felt the word: SINGULARITY
No living can be perfect. Perfection is a dead soil. Nothing grows there. Your imperfections are your treasure. Live on it! Grow on it!
Singularity; the wildest way of self love!
What do you feel when you focus on it.
Heart to Heart, Janosh