Most of the time when I write in my journal, I simply pick up the pen and begin.

There is a modest initial structure in that entries begin with the time of day and a brief account of my surroundings at the moment. Perhaps a theme or thread will emerge according to the flow or cohesion of what I write, but if so, it does so only by virtue of linear thinking and not by overt intention.

One of my joys is to record sensory observations and experiences because it is through those observations that I can re-member or re-enter a moment, a thought, an encounter, at another time. Another pleasure is simply laying down a running commentary of circumstance and seeing where it goes. This writing also helps me to know what I am thinking or feeling..I actually think better with pen in hand.

In a way, these lines, these quotidian paragraphs of this and that, are like the moving photographs of Harry Potter. The language is fixed to the page, but the words are not. They rest, shimmering as a fish scale bent in motion…ready to catch light, to reflect, to layer with others and create dimension–and sometimes to simply be cast off, shed into the ocean of moments.