There is a time in a man’s life… or so the song goes, but right now I am not missing local politics. About two years ago I took one long walk with Marc along the Aare and at one point I turned to him and declared that if I were to die that day, I would die happy. Happy? I still do not know what that happy means, but the longer I live the more convinced I am that it does not matter what it means.
Chances are that I will not be writing here much in the months ahead. Chances are that I can not predict such things. Sometimes I need to write and have it made public, it is one exercise that I do in this era that we happen to share and shape. Other times I need to keep my writing to myself, and I need long walks. Sometimes I need to be with people and be public forgetting that the private self ever existed, or that it still exists.