She’d read that Jack Kerouac kept a pocket notebook that shaped the poetry he wrote. He always had it with him. Ready to record a thought, collect an observation he could form into his poetry. Walter Benjamin had been a collector too. His Arcades Project had been written on scraps and cards as he walked and explored Paris. An archive ready for him to organise. She collected too. Fragments of language. Overheard phrases. Thoughts, questions and connections. Observations, Sketching with words. Collecting. An everyday remix. She looked at her pocket screen and watched the words swim and organise without her.