From today’s journal:
Things keep slipping through the cracks of my concentration. Life is kaleidoscopic. Another day, another turn of the scope, and all the previous patterns are gone, replaced by new ones. I see the ones in front of me. I forget yesterday’s images, or those of the days before that. Perhaps that’s why I keep a journal. It’s my butterfly net. The images are like butterflies I try to collect for later study. The difference is that these butterflies don’t lie dead, pinned in trays. They’re still fluttering and alive and seeing them again sometimes recreates the original impact of the images and ideas. Where there are butterflies, there is hope.