In a world that moves ever faster — where phones ping, notifications flood, and the mind is constantly tugged between screens, chatter, and to‑do lists — the notion of hochre arrives like a quiet exhale. Imagine waking in pre‑dawn stillness. The hush before sunrise is not empty; it is fertile. You take a slow breath, feeling the air fill your lungs. You step outside, your bare feet touching soft earth or cold floor, and for a moment, there is no urgency. There is simply being. Hochre — while not an ancient, formally documented tradition — can be understood as a…