Happy Bloomsday to you! A quiet celebration of stories as they unfold, of time turning in on itself, of meaning blooming softly in the unnoticed corners of the day.

One year ago today: Florence, Tracey Emin, heat on the stones, a city unfolding at walking pace.

It was a day about walking, eating, and masturbating. But it was also about glancing, tasting, pausing, losing your way, aching, imagining, longing. About studying and worshipping, smelling and remembering, drifting through thoughts, offering yourself to moments, beholding beauty, lingering in it, touching, misreading, forgetting, believing.

And always, always thinking. Thinking as rhythm, as weight, as music running beneath it all.