2011
Looking back at a year of writing, what I remember isn’t the articles themselves but the gaps between them—the months when nothing seemed worth saying, and then suddenly a string of pieces that all landed in a few weeks. 2011 was scattered. Fractured in a way that felt honest at the time. I was writing about whatever caught my attention: a film, a thought about design, some piece of culture that wouldn’t let go. No agenda, no grand narrative. Just trying to document what mattered when it mattered.