"I want you to do this with me for one month. One month. Write 10 observations a week and by the end of four weeks, you will have an answer. Because when someone writes about the rustic gutter and the water pouring through it onto the muddy grass, the real pours into the room. And it’s thrilling. We’re all enlivened by it. We don’t have to find more than the rustic gutter and the muddy grass and the pouring cold water." - Marie Howe
“Just tell me what you saw this morning like in two lines. I saw a water glass on a brown tablecloth, and the light came through it in three places. No metaphor. And to resist metaphor is very difficult because you have to actually endure the thing itself, which hurts us for some reason. – Marie Howe
16/08/24: the sky and clouds were golden and heavenly
14/08/24: my face got hot when i didnt respond to the messages
13/08/24: at lunchtime the light in the room looked familar like when i used to miss school when i was little
12/08/24: the streets were so busy with people and i was in the crowd
11/08/24: the sun was so nice in the park where we walked together
7/08/24: i got scared by a person
6/08/24: i realised i don't like PDA as much as i thought.
5/08/24: my hands were so cold and my teacher commented on my "mittens"
4/08/24: the light on the wall was like specks because of the gaps in the tree.
3/08/24: i tasted lemon in the salmon.
2/08/24: i notice people's eyes a lot and i cant look away.
1/08/24: today i saw how he moved his table closer to me so it was aligned. i acted as if i didnt notice him do that.