The internet rewards the loudest possible version of every thought. Everything has to be a disaster, a masterpiece, a scandal or a comeback. I’m as guilty of it as anyone.
Meanwhile most of life is someone moving their bag so you can sit down, making you tea without asking, sending a photo because it reminded them of you, or laughing so hard they have to start the story again.
I want to pay more attention to that stuff. I think people are usually more interesting there.
I've been looking at Diana Scherer's textiles. They're grown from plant roots, guided into patterns under the soil. I'd love to watch that happening.
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