Keep something for yourself.

I like seeing what people make. A loaf of bread, a drawing, a carefully chosen shelf of books: sharing these things can be an ordinary form of generosity. But I have noticed how easily the audience can arrive before the activity.

Who is this moment for?

When I am thinking about how something will look later, I am less present for how it feels now. The meal becomes a picture before it becomes dinner. The walk becomes a collection of possible posts. Nobody demanded this of me. It happened a little at a time.

Some things can be meaningful without being visible.

So I am keeping a few things off the record. Bad sketches. Ordinary lunches. A notebook that has no future as content. Their smallness is part of the appeal. They can stay unfinished and a little awkward.

Sharing is not the enemy. An imagined audience does not need a permanent seat at the table, though. There is room for a private pleasure that remains exactly that.