I have always dreamed of seeing the world. From an early age, I yearned for movement —physically, emotionally and intellectually. Travel was never simply a holiday; it was where I found myself. It was also always an invitation for humility: a reminder that there is more to this world than the environment we find ourselves in. Seeing new landscapes, feeling unknown languages, dancing through the unfamiliar rhythms of new cities and streets always mirrors something within me. The simple act of moving from one place to another, even for short distances, would awaken my imagination. Movement has shaped me and my work, and has deeply influenced the way I practice translation. 

It is in California that Etel Adnan started to write and paint in leporellos. In the early sixties, the poet and painter left Lebanon “by running all the way to California. An exile, which lasted for years,” she writes in In the Heart of the Heart of Another Country (City Lights Books, 2005), a haunting exploration of identity, history, displacement, and war from an Arab American perspective. California, for Adnan, was not just a destination, but a space where thoughts could unfold like a leporello—accordion-like, nonlinear, alive.

LOVE OUR PEOPLE LIKE YOU LOVE OUR FOOD the mural says, listing the elements needed in the manner of ingredients in a recipe: accountability, respect, understanding, love, empathy and listening. Produced by the Mandarin Institute and artist Vida Kuang in 2021, this mural in Chinatown San Francisco is a call to action for people to examine how they’ve consumed Asian food and culture, and actively acknowledge the labour, history and colonization of Asian peoples. “Love our people like you love our food” is a recipe for solidarity. It also includes all the ingredients for translation.

“[T]he majestic expanse of the Pacific seacoast has imperceptibly worked its way into my dreams, remaking me, stripping me down, and perhaps thereby liberating me.” Czesław Miłosz writes in “Facing Too Large an Expanse”, one of the many short essays I’ve been devouring from Visions from San Francisco Bay (translated by Richard Lourie).

“6 7 3 9”, she said from behind the counter to the man who shyly stepped inside the coffee shop as a Radiohead song was playing. He was one of the thousands of unhoused people living in the city. I hadn't been in San Francisco twenty-four hours yet, and…

If you’ve been reading my work for a while, you know I lost my grandmother back in September 2022. The grief I have experienced has been like no other, an immense loss not just of a person I love deeply, but of my refuge, the existence rooting me even as I have always been finding myself in movement…

On Sunday night, as the two slow weeks between Christmas and the New Year drew to a close, I felt sad and frustrated. It was time to leave my bubble and return to reality, I thought. This bubble had been a space of freedom—an empty calendar where each day unfolded in the moment. It was filled with culture: ….

que notre vie soit vibrations is a wish I have encountered this past summer in one of the art installations spread across a beautiful estate […]of organic winery, architecture and art, where artists from around the world are commissioned to create artworks in conversation with the location where they will settle their vision in.

Artists include Ai Weiwei, Louise Bourgeois, Yoko Ono, Richard Serra, Bob Dylan, Tracey Emin, Siobhán Hapaska, Michael Stipe, Prune Nourry, Sophie Calle, Tadao Ando and many more. Whether they’re a building, like the galleries imagined by Oscar Niemeyer, Renzo Piano or Richard Rogers, or sculptures and installations, the works are monumental and an invitation to root oneself in the space. The connection with nature transforms an artistic journey into a spiritual one. The wish, may our life be vibrations, accompanies me throughout my own exploration of this extraordinary place. 

READ ON

What a world have we been building, since I sent the last issue of this newsletter last summer. It was issue 30, on Humility and Imagination. I feel none of these two words are part of our mainstream discourses, and it worries me. So here I am. Trying to do my part, attempting to contribute to a narrative of connection and most importantly, trying not to get distracted by voices carrying nothing else but void —from news headlines, algorithms to incompetent politicians.

I promised I would return with new thoughts, reflections, spaces for imagination…

READ ON

Read issue thirty of the Attention Span Newsletter, published on 3 July 2024,

Read issue twenty-nine of the Attention Span Newsletter, published on 19 June 2024,

Read to issue twenty-eight of the Attention Span Newsletter, published on 5 June 2024,

Read and listen to issue twenty-seven of the Attention Span Newsletter, published on 22 May 2024,

Read and listen to issue twenty-six of the Attention Span Newsletter, published on 8 May 2024,

Read and listen to issue twenty-five of the Attention Span Newsletter, published on 24 April 2024.

Read and listen to issue twenty-four of the Attention Span Newsletter, published on 10 April 2024.

Read and listen to issue twenty-three of the Attention Span Newsletter, published on 27 March 2024.

Read and listen to issue twenty-two of the Attention Span Newsletter, published on 13 March 2024.

Read and listen to issue twenty-one of the Attention Span Newsletter, published on 28 February 2024.

Read and listen to issue twenty of the Attention Span Newsletter, published on 14 February 2024.

Read and listen to issue nineteen of the Attention Span Newsletter, published on 31 January 2024.

Read and listen to issue eighteen of the Attention Span Newsletter, published on 17 January 2024.

Read and listen to issue seventeen of the Attention Span Newsletter, published on 20 December 2023.

Read and listen to issue sixteen of the Attention Span Newsletter, published on 06 December 2023.