Letters — 3 min read — June 2026
A letter about noticing
On the small, unrepeatable details of an ordinary Tuesday, and why they are worth the attention.
This morning the light came across the table at the angle it only manages for a few weeks a year. I noticed it because I happened to be sitting still. That is the whole of it, really: noticing is mostly a matter of being somewhere long enough for something to arrive.
Attention is the most ordinary form of love we have, and the easiest one to forget to give.
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We are often told to be present, as though it were a discipline requiring willpower. Mostly it requires slack — a few unbooked minutes in which nothing is expected of you, and the day gets a chance to show you something.
