if there's anything I've learned this summer it's that there are no answers, never any answers, only a bunch of questions, a bunch of unknown unknowns, and a bunch of composed, confident answers, with bitten lip and fierce eyebrow in tow. never any guiding rulesets, just a series of routines calcified and ossified into commandments, carved into stone. formerly playdoh, now stone.

what to do now? at any given point? when everything is malleable and formable and changable? when you dangle space in your hand and twirl it in your fingers; when the possibilities are visceral, realizeable, and soon-to-be-realized, in the absence of the initial constraint, replaced with the freedom of creation, there is only self-restraint, understanding, concern, balance, bold dashes forwards, a biting-of-the-lip.

swinging one way, this manifests as: self-doubt, hesitation, frustration, unconcern.
swinging the other way, this manifests as: excitement at one's own presence, to bring-into-being to create in one's image the world.

note to self: when my head hurts because there is no answer, because I must juggle a handful of factors in one hand to figure out the problem; because there is no grand elegant pure-math Q.E.D solution but just a series of incremental adjustments, guesses, movements ------- this moment of boxed-in pondering is the little sliver of the moment at which design happens, really, the field in which there are no answers, just not-answers, and thus the infinite field of answers.