What moves you?

There are moments when something begins before we understand it. A shift that cannot yet be explained, a decision that feels immediate but not fully formed. You move toward something without knowing exactly why, or where it will lead, and by the time you try to account for it, you are already in motion. In the thick of it, if we may. We often describe this kind of movement as instinct, as something that arrives too quickly to be trusted, something without shape or solid ground. But that assumes clarity comes first, that we know before we act. Often, we don’t.

Some forms of movement precede understanding. They emerge as a response to something felt but not yet articulated, and what follows is not always explanation, but recognition— a slow realisation that something had already begun. In this sense, what moves us is not always fully ours. It can be fleeting, passing through us before we can name it, and going on to shape the spaces we occupy.