In time, a magazine wrote a piece calling wwwketubanjiwacom an “infrastructure of attention.” The phrase annoyed some contributors — attention wasn’t the point, they argued; care was. But the label stuck in a way that made certain things possible: funding, grants, even a physical space in a gritty neighborhood where the online archive could be touched. The space was minimal: shelves, a sewing table, a projector for lullabies, a community fridge for donated food. It became a staging ground: people came in to digitize old tapes, to learn sewing repairs in person, to teach others how to make a rain catcher. Offline and online fed one another like two halves of a visible and invisible body.
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