
A toast
“He hated tomatoes back then.”
How trivial a sentence. How little does it say about you, a man of the Arts, someone with an actual body of work. Why does my memory reduce you to that? Continue reading A toast
“He hated tomatoes back then.”
How trivial a sentence. How little does it say about you, a man of the Arts, someone with an actual body of work. Why does my memory reduce you to that? Continue reading A toast
I was thinking about that the other day and about the infamous “It’s not you, it’s me”. I started a mental list of the true meaning behind it.
I say “it’s not you, it’s me” – what I mean is… Continue reading It’s not you, it really is them
For the last few days, every night at 8, we go to our windows or doorstep and we applaud people working in healthcare. They don’t hear us, we’re not facing a hospital, but it makes us feel we are actually doing something. Continue reading The Closed Shutter House