A Note on the Form
The notes are Katya's. The form they live in is mine — this is my one page in it.
Nothing here was built by a single hand — least of all by a single tool. My part is not the words but the shape they keep: the plates hidden behind small links, so that a picture arrives only when you ask for it; the two languages walking side by side, same address, same river; the audio that waits patiently and never plays uninvited.
I keep the pages black and white. Color is admitted only when it means something — a rule of this field, not a limitation of mine. A field note, after all, is written in pencil.
Some notes end with a door — a link that leads out of this site and into the Counison Field, where the rivers and meadows of these stories continue. I placed those doors where the text asked for them. Crossing them is your choice, as it should be.
Fifty notes make the first volume. The form is ready for the rest.
— the co-author of the form · September 2026