Field Notes
Field Notes are where I slow down.
They are the place where I write by hand with a fountain pen, or sit quietly at a keyboard and allow one story to unfold. Unlike conversations, which move like rivers, a field note follows a single current. It begins with a moment—a walk, a conversation, a photograph, a question—and stays with it long enough to discover what it has to say.
Some begin in the notebook I carry everywhere. Others emerge after walking through a city, sitting in a café, or returning home from an unexpected conversation. They are written rather than spoken because writing asks something different of me. It asks me to choose one thread from the many that are always moving through my mind and follow it wherever it leads.
Elsewhere in The Leeça Space you’ll find conversations, recordings, interviews, and longer reflections. Those often begin in dialogue and wander freely from one idea to another. Field Notes are different. They are quieter. More deliberate. They are the practice of paying attention.
Some remain exactly as they are. Others gradually become essays, photographs, podcasts, or grow into Land & Lives.
Every larger work begins here.
The Music we Carry
A quiet piano concert leads me back through a lifetime of memories—from my father’s records and the music of the 1980s to unexpected friendships, heartbreak, and the songs that have quietly accompanied each chapter of my life.
At the Greenhouse
I went to Île d’Orléans to buy flowers and came home thinking about something entirely different. A conversation with a couple who have spent more than fifty years working the land became a reminder that every beautiful place is shaped not only by its landscape, but by the people who devote their lives to it.