Something Else
I had a title before I had a thought, which is probably how half the Internet works. # Something else. That was all I wrote in the title box this...
Questions & Musings
ECLIXAR
digital diary
Journal.
fragments of quiet intelligence
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...
Every article is a scene. Every word, a frame of something that would not have remained, had it not
been writtenFrom the archive.
Traditions & Culture
Tables Outside
Amsterdam has moved its furniture onto the pavement again and everybody seems happier for it. # Tables outside everywhere, chairs angled toward whatever patch of sun remains, people stretching one...
Affinity & Heart
Vrijdagavond
Friday evening has become one of the Dutch phrases my body understands before my brain does. # Vrijdagavond. Friday evening. The moment the laptop closes differently. The bicycle ride home...
Affinity & Heart
Open Windows
For months the city stayed on the other side of glass. Now it is sitting in the room with us. # The windows are open all the time now, and...
Beauty & Art
Sunlight at Ten in the Evening
My body says evening and the sky keeps politely disagreeing. # Ten in the evening and there is still light. Not noon light, obviously, but enough that the sky refuses...
Memory & Time
Why Sometimes Writing Is the Only Thing
There are things I can say aloud and things that only become clear after my fingers have already written them. # Sometimes writing is the only thing, not because there...
Memory & Time
And Then I Write Anyway
I have spent ten years claiming I have nothing to say immediately before saying several hundred words. # Two days ago I didn’t want to write and tonight I opened...
Questions & Musings
Not Wanting to Write Anything
The cursor has been blinking at me for twelve minutes and I resent its confidence. # I don’t want to write tonight. There is nothing wrong. That needs saying first...
History & Places
Italy From Here
Distance has not made Italy smaller inside me. It has only changed the angle from which I see it. # June 2 has a different texture when I wake up...
Journey & Time
Summer, Theoretically
The calendar has declared summer and Amsterdam has accepted the paperwork without making any practical commitment. # There is a particular optimism involved in calling June the beginning of summer...
Memory & Time
What an Absurd Sentence
The extraordinary thing did not disappear. It simply learned how to make coffee in my kitchen. # May ends tonight and I keep returning to yesterday’s sentence because it contains...
Journey & Time
Amsterdam Is Normal
What an absurd sentence. What a beautiful sentence. # Amsterdam is normal. I laughed when I typed it. Amsterdam, the city that once lived in photographs and music and maps...
Why?
Because every thought leaves a trace. If something moved you, disturbed you, softened you, or made you think, leave it here, quietly.