Essays, notes, and small observations on writing, design, and slow living.
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Posts grouped around a shared topic.
There is something steadying about copying a sentence by hand — not for posterity, but because the act itself slows the mind enough to let the words settle. I've kept a commonplace book for nine years now, and it has quietly become the most honest record of who I've been.
Continue reading →I used to admire the long sentence — the kind that uncoils across half a page, gathering modifiers and qualifications like burrs on a coat. I still do, sometimes. But increasingly I find myself trusting the short one more.
Continue reading →The first reading is for the plot. The second is for the sentences. The third is for the silences between them. Some books only become themselves on the third pass.
Continue reading →I have started leaving my phone at home on Sunday afternoons. The world rearranges itself almost immediately. The trees are still trees, but I notice them again.
Continue reading →A good pen, a sharp knife, a quiet room. The tools that change a practice are rarely the expensive ones — they are the ones that get out of the way.
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