I just arrived back to the apartment that I've left over a year ago. It all looks familar, just with a thick layer of sticky dust. I had to get rid of two trash bags full of food, spoiled, eaten by moths, disintegrated. Perhaps communicating over time and across physical distance presents similar risks as food vs time, spoilage vs durability, interpretation and usefulness. Revisiting my notebooks I found this particular one from when I started working at Restaurant Zinc in Rotterdam in 2016, now closed. My notes in it are almost arbitrary, definetely fragmentary, mostly amounts, times. Now they appear pretty useless. The first entry is CHOCOLATE MOUSSE