Or: why I’ve started writing in the margins of movement
Because one day you’ll look back and realize: the destination blurred, but the notes remained. And in them, you’ll find not just where you went, but who you were while getting there. zapiski czynione po drodze
And maybe that’s the secret: movement forgives. It shakes off perfectionism. You write a fragment, close the notebook, watch a field of sunflowers blur past, and that’s enough. Or: why I’ve started writing in the margins
Writing at a desk feels different. It’s solid, intentional, heavy with the pressure to mean something. But writing po drodze — en route — is lighter. You’re already leaving. So the stakes drop. You can afford to be strange, incomplete, contradictory. The road will forgive you. close the notebook