Taking inspiration from John Locke’s ‘Essay Concerning Human Understanding’ (1690), which described the mind as a blank slate shaped by experience, the project translates behavioural cycles into visual form.

Habits are built not by grand gestures but through small, repeated actions that leave lasting imprints. Using kinetic typography, procedural tools, and morphing techniques, each number becomes a stage in the cycle of change, from the first step, to repetition, to failure, to renewal.

The animations and book together create a visual language for the invisible architecture of daily life, where patterns accumulate into transformation.
 
The number 1 is the seed.
It represents the first step, the smallest possible action that sets a habit into motion. Change rarely begins with sweeping gestures, instead, it starts with something so manageable it almost feels trivial. One choice, one step, one minute.

By lowering the barrier to entry, the first action bypasses resistance and establishes momentum. It is not about perfection or scale, but about initiation. The single act carries within it the potential for repetition and transformation.

Like a seed, “1” holds within its simplicity the blueprint of growth. It is the reminder that everything that follows depends on beginning once, and beginning now.
The number 6 is the cycle in motion.
It represents the habit loop, the repeated rhythm of prompt, practice, and payoff that transforms small actions into lasting change. Unlike the sharp beginning of “1,” the “6” curves back on itself, a visual metaphor for return, reinforcement, and continuation.

Habits are rarely built in isolation. They rely on cues that trigger action, actions that are practiced, and rewards that reinforce behaviour. Over time, this loop becomes self-sustaining. “6” embodies that sense of repetition, the return to the start, the willingness to try again, the trust that persistence compounds. It is less about intensity and more about consistency.
 
The number 9 represents struggle, failure, and resilience.
For every habit that takes root, many more fall away. Research, experience, and lived reality all suggest the same truth: most attempts at change don’t stick the first time. Nine out of ten fail, but that single success is what matters.

“9” reminds us that failure is not the end of a process but part of it. To falter is to learn. Each broken attempt leaves behind information, a lesson, or even just the quiet proof that effort was made. Without these missteps, there can be no refinement, no persistence, no eventual breakthrough.

The shape of the number itself carries this duality: an upward curve that loops back into a heavy anchor. It balances possibility with weight, the aspiration to rise and the gravity that pulls us down. Within that tension lies the truth of building habits: progress demands patience, resilience, and a willingness to begin again after disappointment.

The “9” is a symbol not of defeat, but of endurance.
Zero is not emptiness, but possibility. It represents the pause between cycles, the moment of reset where endings fold back into beginnings. In the language of habit, zero is the space we encounter after failure, disruption, or deliberate change.

Every pattern eventually breaks, not as a sign of weakness, but as part of the natural rhythm of growth. When momentum falters, zero gives us the chance to reframe, recommit, or redirect. It clears the slate, offering perspective that cannot exist when we are caught in constant motion.

In practice, zero is a reminder that lapses do not erase progress. The act of starting again: once, twice, or a hundred times, is itself the essence of discipline. Renewal matters more than perfection.
To embrace zero is to accept cycles as part of the process: beginning, repeating, failing, and returning.,a reminder that change is not linear but circular, always offering another chance to begin again.