I want to understand why dictating text works not only as a speed boost, but as a different mode of thinking.

I used to talk about fast capture, but it’s not just about speed. In an interview, Andy Matuschak mentioned that he walks around the room and dictates text instead of typing. What caught my attention wasn’t that it’s faster, but that speaking seems to switch off the inner editor. When you type, you’re constantly tweaking, deleting, rewriting, and that can look like thinking. But sometimes it’s more like a brake.

I had often heard about this, but I could never truly grasp the idea myself. I’m talking about the fact that notes, in any format or medium, are first and foremost for ourselves.

Earlier, inspired by Luhmann, Matuschak, and others, I wrote notes because “that’s what you’re supposed to do.” I had heard they worked, that “evergreen” notes should produce some kind of effect in the future. I believed it, but I didn’t really understand what it meant for a note to “work.” Of course, I enjoyed writing, and that gave me energy to continue, but from time to time I would find myself facing a concrete wall with a large inscription: “WHY?”

Another small tool for my workspace. And one more logo.

I created a small tool for my workspace and decided to design a logo for it. It matters to me that even a utilitarian thing has a simple, recognizable cover: in the Obsidian interface, in the repository, and in the portfolio, the project immediately comes together as a coherent object instead of looking like a collection of files.

This is not about a brand or a service, but about a neat working tool. There is a calm version for everyday use, and an accent red one for moments when you want to present the project as a standalone artifact.

No psychologist today will tell you about the importance of a kindred soul, or how to find it. They themselves live in a perverted world and present it as the norm.

The soul is not a function of the system — it’s a glitch, a void, a call, a light. It’s something that should not exist in a functioning system.

Recently I already wrote about the lighting that pretends. I had a feeling they’d outdo themselves. And just the other day, I was “lucky” (and there’s really no other word for it) to ride yet another version — or configuration — of this miracle of engineering and design thinking. Are you ready? They’ve added a red LED strip along the windows. Cool, right? Innovation!

But that’s not all.

Huh? What do you think of this design? I even had to squint from how bright the interior was.

Now, seriously.

When there’s no taste, everything slowly turns into a Christmas tree. Unfortunately, that’s the case here now.

I love capturing simple moments. Different generations. Ordinary people living ordinary lives. Without pretense or gloss. That evening I wasn’t thinking about the value of the frame. I just met people and pressed the shutter button.

It’s these kinds of shots that teach you to appreciate the moment. I open the photograph I took that summer evening and think about them. Some are gone. Someone got distracted by something trivial. Someone is going through a crisis or walking into the fog toward a dream, feeling the brass of life and unaware of the coming storms and cliffs.

It’s not about another lucky “shot” for social media. It’s about attention. Despite the noise and the world’s overindulgence, to notice something simple and alive.