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 →Tulips opened overnight. I finished the Le Guin and started the Berger. The kettle whistled three times before I noticed. Some weeks the small things are enough — in fact, they are often the whole point.
Continue reading →A new notebook in February is a small rebellion against the long grey middle of the year. The paper is cream, the lines are faint, and the first page is, as always, the hardest.
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.
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