Something, Nothing, or Somewhere in Between | Gisellma Firmansyah

Hello everyone. Before I start my talk, I would like to read a poem with a title of the art of becoming. I keep running, still running.I don't remember when it started. Only that stopping feels like disappearing. Not towards something, not away from anything.Just forward. Because stillness echoes louder than feel ever could. My body remembers the rhythm or better than my heart remembers the reason.Every step looks like progress. But they will refuse to end. I run with trophies in my hand.Polish a blood heav ...