Others

Dialoguing with the other is not about the other but the endless verastility of the self. It is fascinating but scary at the same time.

Saturday

It isn't winter or small hours of the night. I'm not going to play sguash or cook sea food for dinner. The air I'm breathing isn't chilly cold - it's rather heavy and damp. And yet it's Saturday. If I look at the sky I can see planes piercing the grey sky and angrily barking their engines at me.

First snippets

I've already written so many first posts but haven't had either courage or solid reason to post any of them. How am I to know it's not going to be total drivel?
Anyway, here I am writing this very first post about the impossiblity of writing it. What a nonsense!