week 41/26
The notes from the week.
Looking back, reading and browsing through my journal feels… actually I don’t know how it feels. I really struggle to come up with a name for a feeling that would describe it.
I really like the printed-out photos that I glue inside it. The tiny book gets bigger over time, and it’s fun to see it grow and get thicker. My eyes avoid the text I wrote down and just skip to the photos I put in. I feel like the stuff I wrote a week ago hasn’t matured yet. It feels fresh, like newly laid concrete. If I went back, I could make marks that would stay and alter what has already been set. I already have a bunch of journals on my shelf, and yet I haven’t read anything back. It’s not the right time; maybe in the long dark nights of winter I’ll start reading and browsing them.
Now, I have to constantly remind myself to sit down and write down the stuff that passes through my head, and also to make photographs to add to those words on the yellowish paper. If I don’t do it or skip it, there are no photos: no memories are made, or they’re harder to come back to.
This is worth sharing, Glasshouses by Maribou State, Calgary by Bon Iver, Heavenly Father by Bon Iver, I have those on repeat the whole week.
