height="110">Close to you - Carpenters

Monday, April 19, 2010

I have an urge to get a notebook. A physical, old-school, perhaps stylish, but otherwise normal note-book. The sudden urge to write something on the train rides, in between waiting for a friend, when i am bored, when i am alone amidst the throngs of people milling around.

With the worst hand-writing in the world, it would probably turn out to be just like a leaflet from a doctor's prescription slip. But at the very least, it should provide some insights to what i was thinking during those periods of in-betweens. Some random thoughts can be so random that the brain does not register nor remember, often true for a brain that is taxed with information beckoning from the lecture notes.

The environment restricts the mind. Imagine: walking along the streets of Paris (ignore the snobs, the pigeons, the cluttered streets), sit on a park bench overlooking a big field filled with Parisiens enjoying the spring, enjoying the sun, enjoying the wind. Write. Now, many possibilities for the choice of topic. Just pick from anyone you see, anything you fancy. Weather, people, a pebble, a leaf. N'importe quoi!

Again. Imagine: stuck in a 5x5m room, in front of a computer and a printer. Overlooking the next apartment block. Restricted view. Write. It taxes the imagination since that is the only recluse the mind can hide into.

When i get my note-book, when i do, it should be interesting.

Posted by Jessica at Monday, April 19, 2010