Morning light changes a room before anything else does. It finds the edge of a table, the spine of a book, the thin glass of water left from the night before, and makes each object briefly more certain.
The best notes are not conclusions. They are markers left for a future hour: a name, a street corner, a sentence copied because it refused to become quiet.
Keep the page open long enough for the day to leave a trace.
By evening the work becomes simpler. Close the book, mark the line, and let the page wait. Tomorrow will bring its own margin.