Yesterday at the estate sale I walked around quickly, gathering a pile of things. With Otto protesting on my back I lost patience in the queue, left everything behind and drove off. On the motorway two miles later I couldn’t get this little notebook out of my mind. One hundred and thirty one blank pages and one to do list with one uncrossed-out item on it. The innocent practicality of this approach to performing magic, the hopeful belief in the card, and the implied failure of the show. The writer no doubt too old now to believe in magic, and the card and the never-to-be-known secrets of conjuring that it surely detailed, still lost. I love the energy left in this unfinished plan. I will find a way to magically cause the cover of the book to open and close, revealing and hiding the list (like in the animation, but in real life).
This is one way that I like to make work these days, I go out and look for it for sale somewhere, then finish it.