Nathalie Quintane--from Shoes, p.5

Tying my shoes is something I can do eyes shut (or in a dark room).

I can tie my shoes just fine while thinking of nothing else.

Still, if, since waking up, I can't shake a piece of music (I go on singing it "internally" whatever I'm doing), I'll have considerable trouble tying my shoes without continuing my little song, or, without, all at the same time, continuing my song and cursing it for haunting me.

Fortunately, more often, the tying of my shoes allows me to think of other things, and in this way, to make up time. I have, simultaneously, a gesture and a thought quite autonomous from one another.

As I clearly benefit from this potential--ever since I've been old enough to tie my shoes without thinking of shoe-tying--I must, presently, make great strides to not think of other things while tying my shoes. I succeed now and again by analyzing the shoe's motions, or observing the leather, or characteristics of the lace.