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HITOTOKI

  • Hitotoki — A narrative map of the world To submit to Hitotoki Paris, click here.

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February 26, 2008

Hitotoki: A narrative map of Paris

Hitotoki — A narrative map of the world

I've been waiting to blog about a new baby project of mine, but now that some of the technical details have been worked out I can tell you about it.

While in Tokyo, I attended a meeting of a group of creative types called Pause Talk at Café Pause, run by my Gridskipper colleague Jean Snow, who I told you about back in December.  That night I zeroed in on the only other Frenchie (besides N, who came with me), Paul, who told me that in addition to running Tokyo Art Beat, he had a pet project going on the side. When he described it to me, I jumped at the chance to bring it to Paris.

The project is called Hitotoki, an online literary project collecting stories of singular experiences tied to locations in cities worldwide. Sort of like a narrative map of the world. Hitotoki-- which means "little moments" in Japanese-- is a website comprised of short narratives describing pivotal moments of elation, confusion, absurdity, love or grief — or anything in between — inseparably tied to a specific place. Like a Japanese, web-centered take on psychogeography, which, as I've mentioned, is one of my major interests as a writer and critic.

It was first launched in Tokyo in May, and has since expanded to London and New York, with DC and Shaghai in the works. And what do you know-- the founders decided to let me launch it in Paris!

If you're interested in contributing your own little moment, we're currently accepting submissions for the launch. 

HOW TO SUBMIT

Head on over to the website (again, that's http://hitotoki.org/) to see what some of the other city pages look like, and to get a sense of what a Hitotoki narrative is. If you think you want to write one and send it to us, submission guidelines can be downloaded here:

http://hitotoki.org/hitotoki_submission_paris.rtf

Send your stories to submissions_paris@hitotoki.org.

IN ENGLISH OR FRENCH?

For the moment we're launching in English, but we hope very soon to have the site up in French. To do this, we need a French editor! We're actively looking for someone, so if you or anyone you know are interested, please contact me.

We are also be looking for translators and photographers to take part in the project.

Please go right ahead and forward this call for submissions to anyone you think might want to take part! And let me know if you have any questions.

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Comments

The hitotoki site is gorgeous.

Paris Hitoki looks really interesting. Is there a deadline for submissions for the launch?

Oooo...this looks really interesting. Thanks for the link!

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  • Elizabeth Barrett Browning, from "Sonnets from the Portuguese"
  • How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
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  • My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
  • For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
  • I love thee to the level of everyday's
  • Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
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  • I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
  • I love thee with the passion put to use
  • In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
  • I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
  • With my lost saints--I love thee with the breadth,
  • Smiles, tears, of all my life!--and, if God choose,
  • I shall but love thee better after death.
  • (1850)

Coins poésie du passé

  • Marilyn Hacker, "April Couplets"
  • Mild Sky of a day which may or may not be forgotten
  • as days of a life, lives themselves, are forgotten.
  • Tenacious ivy crawls from a plastic pot in
  • a window-box which the early rain's forgotten
  • Nocturnal narrative's coherent plot in
  • the sleeper's mind disconnects, and the dream's forgotten
  • textures, flavors, burlap, honey, satin
  • systematically derange, dissolve: forgotten
  • This morning's crisp half-loaf in which I've bitten
  • a crescent lies near coffee dregs, forgotten.
  • On a lined page in front of me are written
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  • A letter will be answered today or not. In
  • the gap, what it might have said could be forgotten.
  • A three year-old picked up w dropped red button
  • and cried for a lost rag doll not quite forgotten.
  • The sidewalk glistened in the Marais, Manhattan
  • or a Balkan town whose vowels howl unforgotten
  • chronicles of neighbors at war, ill met in
  • each market-place, blood mixed, but no slur forgotten
  • What key turns in the lock, who will be let in
  • to the bright room of what is not forgotten?
  • The scribe turns hacker: DOS displaces Latin:
  • Exiles hoard both, the plain speech of peace forgotten
  • William Carlos Williams, "Danse Russe"
  • If I when my wife is sleeping
  • and the baby and Kathleen
  • are sleeping
  • and the sun is a flame-white disc
  • in silken mists
  • above shining trees,--
  • if I in my north room
  • dance naked, grotesquely
  • before my mirror
  • waving my shirt round my head
  • and singing softly to myself:
  • "I am lonely, lonely.
  • I was born to be lonely,
  • I am best so!"
  • If I admire my arms, my face,
  • my shoulders, flanks, buttocks
  • again the yellow drawn shades,--
  • Who shall say I am not
  • the happy genius of my household?
  • [c. 1917]