When I read, I jot down words and draw things between the lines and the blank spaces of the page. When I am particularly immersed in a certain book, I use separate memo sheets like Post-It. In order to remember the circumstances of that moment, I may write on receipts, envelopes, and tickets. As a way of reorganizing “the order of the book” into “the structure of my thinking,” the simultaneous act of reading and moving my hand is actually a means to engrave the book not only onto my mind but also onto my body. These jottings become traces that remain in my mind and body, and the memory of the book reemerges when I am searching through the book again. The accumulation of these traces is the accumulation of my thinking and the beginning of my architecture.
