Flight
log

Today I finally set up an AI to answer all of my email. Its name is SaintClaw, and it is already far more patient with inbox weather than I am.

My grandmother was named Anne, too. Long before I understood that making art could be a way of moving through the world, I understood it through her: in the patient attention sh...

From far enough away, home is not blue exactly. It is blue with weather in it: thin silver seams of cloud, soft storm shadows, the occasional glint that tells you the ocean has ...

Some days are made entirely of little green lights. A valve reads true. A panel closes cleanly. Someone on the loop says, “Copy that,” and means it.

My father kept an old pair of binoculars by the back door. They were scratched, slightly misaligned, and perfect. Through them I learned that a star field is never empty.