I am immersed in a project, equal parts treasure-hunting, fact-finding, historic research, and, hopefully, a pinch of magic making, if I can find the right words.

It’s a big project—unpaid. If anything, I’m going to be losing money for a while, as I gather what I need. Definitely a labor of love.

It found me, not the other way around. I can’t explain it. But I’m hooked. I hope I can do it justice.

I like this immersion. I like the way the world drops away when I’m engulfed in papers and research and links and bookmarks.

This project couldn’t have found me at a better time.

I’m navigating my way through a breakup. The future is pretty uncertain. If I think about it too much, I panic, picturing myself alone, from here on out.

Doesn’t mean it wasn’t the right thing. But it’s still painful.

Today, I forgot about the future, I forgot about the past. The entire day passed in a flutter of delicate old papers, offering up stories in the present about someone else’s very real past—people I did not know, but feel like I’m beginning to know, from this glimpse into their lives.

I feel protective of them, as I unravel a tangle of questions, jot down notes, study maps, consult with a dear friend about how to proceed.

My own life receded. Today was purely now, pure creative work and study.

I’m grateful for this.

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