The man sitting in front of me dropped his newspaper, but now would be a dangerous moment to try and pick it up. The bus is heading up toward Horta, which means we’re entering a stretch of steep climbs and sharp dips—enough to make anyone think twice before bending down. I suspect he knows it too. Even though he’s holding onto the rail, he doesn’t make the slightest move to retrieve it. Neither does anyone else watching the scene. We all trust —or pretend to trust— that it’s just a matter of time before everything returns to its place.

Meanwhile, the newspaper lies half-folded on the floor, in the aisle. I catch a headline that hits me right in the middle of today’s big mission: preparing the presentation for a new wine label design. The headline is anything but comforting: Can one remain neutral in the face of genocide? And once again, I find myself asking what sense there is in getting up, taking a shower, getting on a bus, sitting in front of a computer, moving fonts left and right, crafting a story, presenting it, and convincing the client that not only has their investment been worthwhile, but that what I’ve made can help them explain themselves to the world. Carve out a space. Sell liters.

It’s a thought I have often, and I want to believe I’m not the only one. Because that makes me feel less alone.

Yesterday, for instance, Maria José Balcells interviewed me at the launch event for the commemorative piece I designed for the 20th anniversary of the Association for the Study of Furniture. She asked me if I thought design could help make the world a better place. The lights were blinding and the audience was expecting a yes. A yes with arguments. A solid, useful yes. The kind of answer-stone you can cling to when the world feels like a ruin and the meaning of what we do starts to dissolve.

But I couldn’t find it.

I looked from side to side, not knowing what to say. Because I’m sad for the world. And it’s hard not to slip into despair. But I said something, because I think while I speak, and speaking led me to a path:

Has this project awakened something good in any of you?

In the end, it was the boy standing next to the man who picked up the newspaper. He was the one closest to do it.

A hug from the H6,
Ingrid