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Public writings, viewed like an infinitely nested parenthetical conversation (traversing the parenthesis can be fun (I think?))
All of these entries are intentionally rough/unedited ideas I have and notes of things I read (“If I had more time, I would have written a shorter letter.“)
They are often simple or broken, but I think it’s better for me to independently think of something and hope to converge or end up in a new place, or find my way to a similar idea on my own, even if it is a mess or stupid way to get there.
I feel ok with you reading them, because I am not asking you to. If you discover them and do, it’s on you.
They are just here with the hopes that sifting through them, something meaningful comes out.
But that really doesn’t seem to be the case. Nothing has been answered. Not a single thing is certain. If they are deleted one day, more will be said in that action than all the words ever written here.
I found this review of a book online:
This is life, with meaning between.