Night. Darkness shades me, I am laying at the bossom of the world. The land under the house is sleepless like me. Spring is coming, I can feel it in my bones. I made a walk in town a few hours ago. The lights in the streets were reflecting in the wet pavement, the inns were noisy and smelling with beer and sweat. There was a soft drizzle and the lukewarm air was filled with an undefinable joy. The moist wind blew pathetic and hollow, like an empty room sealed upon a ghost. Perhaps they had met each other all too often, that old wind and these gothic buildings, the Cathedral and the Belfry, and...

Of course there's a negative side to blogging and I should have noticed that right away. When you are on your own you tend to loose your sense of proportion, you tend to forget that you are only a dumb-head around here, that some truely deserve their reputation in the Forum and must be revered as such. There’s so much going on lately, there are so many interesting threads, so relevant for my own questions and preoccupations, there are so many paths and good ideas. I think about coming back again and participating more actively, saying my say and showing my poor personality, my limited intellect...

Slowly, over much time and thought, I believe I'm coming to a conclusion about my existence - and by association, what I believe to be the nature of all our existence. This isn't profound, nor earth-shattering or keenly insightful. It doesn't say anything that hasn't been said before, is there any original thought left?

The connection between what we are (animals with self-awareness), what we do, what we want, how we think, how we interact with our world, how that world was formed and has grown thus far, the realization of these connections, is finally coming into view. It's a good...

Robert Desnos, famous french poet and member of the Résistance was arrested by the Gestapo in February 1944 and soon after deported to Buchenwald. When D-day arrived the prisoners were sent to the concentration camp of Theresienstadt in Tsjechoslovakia. It was a march of 200 km, meaning days and nights of unimaginable suffering for these sick and exhausted men, executed on the spot if they were unable to keep pace with the group. Desnos survived the deathmarch but was infected by typhus and died the 8th of June 1945, shortly after the liberation of Theresienstadt by the russian army. In his pocket...