This morning I wrote a letter to an old friend. A real, physical letter.
I recently made a new change-purse for my pocket, because my previous one was starting to fall apart. For the outsides, I used two sample pieces for window-blinds. The zipper came from a bag of rice.
It feels so good to do real things.
Of course, now that’s being sold as a reaction to the predominance of digital life — a weird hybrid where one does analogue things in a performative way in order to then post pictures online of a superior wholesome offline lifestyle. (Which I suppose I’ve just done here.)
This is a confusing time.
Oh, and the rice bag? It became a dog toy/pillow filled with stuffing and various squeakers from dead toys. When Doug puts his head on it, it quacks like a duck.
