from one of my numerous notebooks
This early morning, I am flying away for the weekend. As always, I'll be taking polaroids of the clouds – I probably should buy another little black notebook for my collection of skies – wondering about the lives and landscapes hidden under what I once thought was a field of candy floss.
There is something magical about abandoning my routine to go back to an old one I left not so long ago. In these times of hyper-productivity, when success seems more valuable at a young age, it is important to step away, to pause the world and remember the days when we could simply live for each moment. Entirely dedicated to the present, amazed by all the things around us... How old were we ? Six or ten.
Each year, as I am getting older, the pressure becomes almost physical, to have a list of relevant accomplishments – because, what have you been doing all these years ? As if the everyday pursuit of happiness in the little things of life had turned into this derisory miracle for naive souls.
We are being taught to tick boxes and live a bureaucratic life, outside of work, and lose all notion of carefreeness, spontaneity, as everything needs to be planned and organised. There is no more space for improvisation, lonely walks made of silence and contemplation. That is why it is important to be selfish with our time, spend it on our own, sometimes away from the crowd, unaware of self-doubts and competition for, in the end, we are still children going through life with the same enchanted eyes.