Paper Crane

You can make six paper cranes out of one let­ter-sized sheet of paper. The two small­est ones would make per­fect ear­rings.

The conun­drum is that the lan­guage to describe the inef­fa­ble splen­dors and pos­si­bil­i­ties of our lives takes time to mas­ter, takes a cer­tain unhur­ried engage­ment with the tasks of descrip­tion, assess­ment, cri­tique, and con­ver­sa­tion; that to speak this slow lan­guage you must slow down, and to slow down you must have some inkling of what you will gain by doing so. It’s not an elite lan­guage; nomadic and remote trib­al peo­ples are now quite good at pick­ing and choos­ing from development’s cas­cade of new toys, and so are some of the cash-poor, cul­ture-rich peo­ple in places like Louisiana. Poet­ry is good train­ing in speak­ing it, and skep­ti­cism is help­ful in reject­ing the four horse­men of this apoc­a­lypse, but they both require a mind that likes to roam around and the time in which to do it.

Ulti­mate­ly, I believe that slow­ness is an act of resis­tance, not because slow­ness is a good in itself but because of all that it makes room for, the things that don’t get mea­sured and can’t be bought.

- Rebec­ca Sol­nit

I think I real­ly only have one pet peeve; peo­ple who com­plain about a part of their life but do noth­ing to fix that prob­lem or improve upon it. Dri­ves me bat­ty.