When I was a child, I had a "drawing machine" that consisted of a set of plastic rings and a frame. When you placed the rings inside the frame and put a pencil in, you could draw flowers and stars in patterns. It was like a miracle to watch the rings guide my unsure fingers to create such ethereal images. They appeared from out of nowhere, light and beautiful. I could spend hours combining colours and different-sized rings and gushing at the flowers' matter of course beauty. You have to fight to retain that ability. You have to be able to fall in love. To look at something - or somebody - now and again and let yourself be captivated by the unique inner logic of that thing or being, without measuring or weighing, without evaluating or classifying. You have to be able to be present with your body, your mind and your personality, and to let the other be present in the same way, in its own right, without interference. Without plans.