ABSTRACT
This fictional essay assembles the fragments of a learning journal written by an anonymous person-centred therapist-in-training, discovered by the author in the bin of a fictional therapy institute called Macondo. It reveals unprocessed and unsupervised musings, reflections, and speculations. Whilst not complying with the written and unwritten rules of journal writings – let alone academic essay writing – these passages proclaim, in their own unassuming, even uncouth ways, a slight yet hopefully valuable treasure trove of experiences that normally go below the radar of officious person-centred training and learning.
