a word of my own, arising from the japanese concept of ichi-go ichi-e, meaning 'one moment, one meeting' and the italian word attimo, meaning 'moment'. ichiattimo holds within it the recognition that even the most seemingly continuous experiences — like the sight and sound of flowing water — never repeat. each ripple, each note, is completely singular. it is the awareness of time not as a river to be crossed, but as a stream to sit beside, to listen to — knowing it has never looked or sounded exactly as it does in this moment, and it will never be the same again.
a moment to meet with full attention. the intentionality of slowing down to inhabit time as it passes, found in the warmth of a cup of tea; in the pages of a short book. these books — often of art, poetry, or reflection — become companions in this moment, chosen precisely because they are small enough to be held in a single breath of time.
i collect these stories, these moments. not to be preserved, but to practice noticing them. each one brief, ungraspable, and complete — an ichiattimo.