I have been carrying pocket journal notebooks with me for a few years. Plain layout, never spiral, soft cardboard cover. Reading across them I revisit situations, occurrences and thoughts from specific moments back in time. Through what I had written down then, I can see where I was and when, who I was, what there was; and how it all resonates with my current being. But the value of the journals lies in what they enable directly: to experience time and space through a particular level of attention that unfolds certain aspects of reality. As in listening. I go to a cafe and write down whatever comes to my mind, whatever goes through my ears, whatever calls out my perception in a certain moment. I sit down, and I wait. Then something turns on, a detail. In my memory or in situ.

Attention highlights the continuity between the parts, and discreet elements appear together as a whole. Or is it rather that there’s only one single essence with infinite variations and infinite reappearances? Revisiting the journals, I noticed remarkable connections between something happening at a time in a specific place, and something else taking place a few months later, in a different town. In one of the notebooks there’s a list…

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