Zuihitsu, 2026-Q2

These aren’t polished essays or tidy aphorisms. They’re scraps I’ve carried around this month—half-heard thoughts, borrowed lines, sudden recognitions—that refused to be forgotten. Zuihitsu literally means “following the brush,” and while my version is shorter and scrappier than the classical form, the impulse feels the same: to catch what drifts across the mind before it dissolves. They’re not meant to be a system or a manifesto, just a trail of mental breadcrumbs. If any resonate, keep them. If none do, that’s fine too—next month’s batch will be different. For the full, ever-growing collection, grab the the fortune file. What is obvious to you is often not obvious to another. You don’t have to answer every email or telegraph what you are going to do. The people who won’t argue and the people who can’t stop are both necessary. One marks the edge, the other finds out what’s past it. Somebody has to hold the door open long enough for the conversation to get interesting. Reading the…