Here, hands cut open the silence, peels fall like days of the year, potatoes turn their pale planetary paths on a table of patience and glass.
The knife knows the road of repetition, a rhythm older than words, aprons carry the red of labor, time is sliced thin, without haste.
In the pan the water waits, breathless, for what will soon dissolve together. So this image teaches us softly: care is what you keep doing, again and again.
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