Loving digital & analog
Working on Europe’s big, multi‑year undertakings—the hospital networks, grid upgrades, rail corridors, and the sprawling software architectures that bind them—means living inside vastness. Dashboards glow late into the evening, models overlap, and the project becomes a city you inhabit rather than a thing you manage. It’s intoxicating, but the sheer scale encourages a kind of professional nearsightedness: everything is visible, yet less is actually seen. When you are always inside the map, you begin to forget the terrain. That is why I’ve come to think of analog tools not as retreats into nostalgia, but as quiet productivity enhancements. An analog watch gives time back its dignity—no vibrating wrists, just a steady cue to keep meetings honest and thinking deliberate. A physical notebook turns into a small, private room you can carry anywhere, where a pen slows thought just enough for judgement to catch up with ambition; a hardback book does the same, holding a long argument steady ...
