نام نیک و بد که بر ما ماند

چون بگذشتیم از جهان برباد

بهتر آن که در پی می باشیم

تا به میخانه رسیم و شاد

عمر خیام

The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,

Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit

Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,

Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.

— Omar Khayyám

I have seen the future, and it is a glowing rectangle that never sleeps and never lets you sleep. The average human now spends seven years of his life staring at this thing, seven years of blinking cursor and algorithmic outrage. Seven years that could have been spent riding a motorcycle across the mountains of Honshū, or teaching a displaced Palestinian how to earn a living from a tent in Rafah. I decided to be unreasonable.

So I built two escape hatches.

The first is called VANISH 404. We hand you the key to a battered adventure bike, point you toward roads that Google has never heard of, and confiscate your phone until you remember what wind feels like. No signal. No notifications. Only the sound of gravel and the occasional howl of a mind finally released from its leash. It is the only digital-detox program that comes with knobby tires and a guarantee of mild danger.

The second is called The Itchy Olive. Launched in the bleak autumn of 2024, it teaches remote freelancing skills to Palestinians who have lost homes, universities, and in some cases limbs. We show them how to turn a laptop and an internet connection (when the bombs allow one) into an income stream on Upwork, Fiverr, anywhere. It is not charity; it is applied subversion: taking the very technology that addicts the rest of us and weaponising it for dignity and survival.

Between these two operations I still shoot film photographs that refuse to flatter, cut videos that refuse to lie, and design quiet streetwear for people who understand that a 6×6 negative is worth more than a thousand filtered selfies. I do selective consulting for brands that want to be hated by the right people.

Everything I now do is governed by a single proposition: attention is the only non-renewable resource we possess, and most of us are squandering it on trivia while the world burns or drowns or simply scrolls itself into catatonia.

I have no interest in mindfulness apps, gratitude journals, or any other opiate of the distracted classes. I offer motorcycles, typewriters, and the fierce urgency of teaching a stranger halfway across the planet how to outrun despair with a keyboard.

If that sounds like the sort of contrarian, slightly deranged project you can get behind, then by all means: close this tab, start your engine, or send me a message from wherever you happen to be sheltering tonight.

The Moving Finger is still writing, and it has no intention of pausing for push notifications.

Tokyo-based creator, educator, and mental-health advocate. I fight digital addiction with motorcycles, tents, and typewriters — and teach displaced Palestinians from Gaza how to earn a living online.

That’s it. Everything else on this site is just proof.