The world in my pocket.

On Skype, I talk to a man in Berlin. His other phone rings and, through layers of static, I hear the voice of Miss Sunshine. I pulled a string and now two beloved strangers will meet and talk.

My oldest friend in the world sends me a message from Istanbul: Sitting next to the Grand Bazaar, eating stuffed peppers. I send him to the Arasta Bazaar to buy towels from Antakya.

He sends me pictures of the food he's eating. He knows me well.

In my dropbox I find pictures of a house near the sea. Find furniture please!

I make a mood board on Pinterest. Somewhere in America, someone likes this shelf and re-pins it.

I peek into houses in Dubrovnik and Barcelona for a place to rest my head. Some day.

I see babies turn into children, without ever hearing their voices. Instantly, birthday wishes fly across oceans and continents.

Also in my pocket today: 1068 photographs, at the swipe of a fingertip.

Flotsam and jetsam. Breakfasts and coffees. The clutch of ostrich eggs we found in the dunes, long forgotten and spotted with lichen. Discarded gloves and shoes. Little Miss Sunshine sniffing the camomile lawn. A porcupine skull resting near a thick pelt of quills. shells of ears and megapixels of skin. Rope, feldsalat, flowers, autumn leaves, fingers of light, juicy fruit, scissors, chickens, parrots, snakes, maps, cotton reels, a stuffed giraffe, cracked earth and four eggs in a pan.