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...
a cabinet has no engine, please explain the invoice # Kitchens cost as much as cars. I would like an investigation. Cabinets. Worktop. Appliances. Sink. Hardware. Installation. Suddenly you are...
apparently two adults can discuss one sofa for longer than some governments survive # The sofa. We have one. Decision made. Civilization advances. It took an absurd amount of time...
the revolution will apparently involve storage boxes and arguing about where towels live # Domestic revolutions are not glamorous. They involve discovering how many objects a person owns because somebody...
measure twice, buy once, accuse boyfriend immediately # Wrong measurements. Not all of them. One crucial one. Guess who wrote it down? We don’t know because suddenly neither of us...
we entered as a couple and emerged with six arguments, candles and no sofa # IKEA: first round. Jesus Christ. There is something psychologically aggressive about being shown complete little...
small pieces of metal, absurd amount of psychological significance # Keys today. My keys. Or our keys. I held them in my hand and felt something shift more than it...
not every change arrives with an airport and crying, some of them enter carrying a measuring tape # Some changes shout. September shouted. Others barely whisper until you notice your...
there are sentences that sound embarrassingly adult when you hear yourself say them aloud # «This could be our bedroom.» I said it today and immediately wanted to look around...
empty rooms are dangerous because they agree with every idea until you try to fit the furniture # Empty rooms are generous. Everything fits inside them while it remains imaginary....
romance is dead, we killed it while arguing about 184 centimetres # Yuri and I spent Saturday with a measuring tape. If anyone had shown twenty year old me this...
nothing makes adulthood feel real like discovering you have opinions about tax rules while also comparing sofas # The tax shield is everywhere in the news and arguments now, and...
apparently some sentences divide a month into before and after without raising their voice # «What if we lived together?» Yuri said it like a question about dinner. We were...
Why?
Because every thought leaves a trace. If something moved you, disturbed you, softened you, or made you think, leave it here, quietly.