one again

One thing I’ve found for sure, in writing you turn into just your brain cells, forgetting everything else. Once I came out of my own writing, I was shocked at finding I actually still had a body. I couldn’t remember what I had eaten for weeks, or whole days of my commuting. It’s very much like being in love, it’s an obsession, and you come out of it at the other end emptied and inept, though a winner in your own way – a stranger to yourself. So soup time is now purposedly turning into nap time, sleep time, cuddle up time, reading time, movie-watching time, laughing time, walking time, smelling time, dressing up time, bathing time, cooking time, swimming time, all that nourishing that doesn’t come from thinking – the real world that comes to us through our bodies and senses, and no surprise I’m slowly recovering. I wonder whether one day I’ll be able to juggle this better.

The more I explore the blogosphere, the more I find fellow Polaroid fans. It feels so good. And The Impossible Project is there to show that pure commerce doesn’t necessarily dictates what we love. They are finally close to producing the new film we’ve been long waiting for :)

For the weekend, great great music here :)

Il contributo dei lettori è essenziale al mio lavoro, puoi donare qui!

2 Comments one again

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