There is a manner in which certain things ask to be written, not so that they may be found, but because to exist in silence, for too long, eventually becomes insufficient. It is not urgency. It is something closer to a necessity that makes no noise, waiting patiently until it discovers the proper form. This archive was born in such a way.
Not as a diary. Not as a blog. Not as something that is updated merely for the sake of appearing alive. It is a place where certain thoughts come to rest, those which do not dissolve, those which return, those which insist with the silent obstinacy of things that truly belong to you...
american holiday, italian dinner, globally confused playlist # Thanksgiving from very far away. Not our holiday, obviously, but American radio has made it impossible to miss and half the sites...
another city becomes a headline in the worst possible way # Mumbai tonight. Reports of coordinated attacks, shootings, explosions, people killed and injured, locations attacked across the city, and the...
dummy reporting for duty, with questions # Financial crisis for dummies, dummy being me. My current simplified understanding, with giant warning labels: years of housing and credit expansion, risky mortgages,...
nobody in films says «i bought toothpaste because i noticed you were nearly out» and that’s their loss # Declarations of love from movies are usually speeches because cinema needs...
the worst question is broad enough to contain your entire life # What to do. About what? Exactly. That’s why the question is terrible. What to do this weekend, easy....
apparently my perfect evening is becoming increasingly difficult to explain to normal people # Scientific American and country radio. That’s tonight. Magazine open, American radio stream low, Taylor occasionally appearing...
fairy tales are useful mostly when songs start dismantling them # «White Horse». Taylor again, yes. Hikari says I have entered a phase. She is correct. What I like is...
today a stranger recognised my blog and i briefly wanted to become furniture # Strange things that happen when you’ve been writing online for years: somebody recognises you. Not celebrity...
romeo and juliet with a considerably improved ending, thank god # «Love Story» has now been in my head for two days and I blame nobody but myself. It’s shamelessly...
apparently the youngest voice in my country folder has become tonight’s loudest # A girl, a guitar and Nashville. I have been reading about Taylor’s path because naturally one album...
the list grows faster than the answers, which is either failure or education # Things I still haven’t understood: dark matter properly, quantum mechanics beyond popular explanations, why financial instruments...
apparently sundays now require acoustic guitars by law # Country Sunday has become an actual pattern without me deciding it. Church, lunch, slow afternoon, tea, photographs, country. Today started with...
Why?
Because every thought leaves a trace. If something moved you, disturbed you, softened you, or made you think, leave it here, quietly.