This was 4 years, 10 months, 16 days ago

pnjgm

and it occurs to me that at the core of it all is just the fuel that drives your engine. in a sunset or in the evenings of a new city everything is laid bare. there's nothing but curiosity and kindness and love, really, from you or to you, and everything is just a byproduct. nothing more important than to move forwards on things that interest you, to stumble into project into project and discipline after discipline like a little boy opening doors and cabinets and curtains and books in total delight just to see what will happen.

what will happen? what makes your fingers and your body feel aloft? what charges, what fascinates, what's weird, so weird, so cool, so intricate and puzzle-able? what rolls on your tongue and dances in your mouth like a fleshless peach pit sucked a bit too long in the middle of a hike?

of course, all the cliches come true, become reanimated, like little packets of sea monkeys or compressed t-shirts or foam dinosaur pills that slowly grow and absorb and distend to become much larger than you thought they would be, surprising you in the process. how do you balance? find sight of things?

test drastic changes. follow your nose so much that your feet may start to lift off the floor. to do that is to be clear: it's to abandon disciplinal boundaries and tribal loyalties and to move beyond the tribe of architecture, not to rebel against it per se, but to believe in a different organizing logic (the cartoonish scent trail that wafts and weaves across space in its own logic, disobeying fences, buildings, valleys, carrying bugs bunny wherever bugs bunny may smell what bugs bunny smells).