The happening of life can reduce you in to a machine where its only focus is on the relentless rationing of energy. When down on the deep sea plane, not much work gets done. But; I write everything down. Because of my fear of forgetting. I forget anyway, so it might seem pointless. I leave the notes, tucked away behind my back while trying to get out of bed, get dressed, answer an email, speak and understand language, remembering the now. Why take notes that does not get read for weeks, months, years or never. Halfway through my masters I realized its importance; my practice contains of the excavation of my own archive. The words of time has always been my foundation, my point of departure; this essay is surrounded of the past but exists in the now.

"All this time with a different pulse. Maybe it is something inside of the water."