Life by a thousand cuts

Out in the wild, an injured leg or just paw bring about a quick exit from life. Hunting or foraging becomes difficult and soon after the predator turns into prey. Mankind has many flaws but limb injuries don't automatically mean an early death. They just transform living into a quasi-continuous experience of pain combined with sharp bursts of despair. This is even before dropping everything, realizing that lifting a paper towel is pretty hard and stains are the very sign of regression to baby-style eating. No one is totally in love with their body, but there must have always been an amicable relationship with the right arm, if born right-handed. After all, it's there for so many small and big actions. To have that right arm become  a disobedient and quarrelous servant, a traitor in one's own camp, that is so unfair. Double unfair, actually. Firstly, to its twin limb, now forced to do a crash course in tasks previously unknown (yes, wiping is among them). Then it's unfai

Lockdown reflections 1.1. It started with the frequency of phone calls and messages. Everyone was worried. Interest in other people's welfare took on an unexpected turn. "Are you alright"?  became a magic phrase. The speed of sharing immunity tips increased. There was a definite fervour around any bit of new information. Some became suspicious that others may know something and hide it. The spurt of activity on various channels was matched by what happened in the media and to a more significant degree on the internet. The two spheres, the personal and the public one, were in synch up to a point only. Then some sort of fatigue started gnawing away at individual hyper-communication. Phone calls became less frequent. Text messages turned into forwarding funny videos and memes, mostly. Family members and friends, let alone acquaintances, settled back into their usual routine. The new normal, under lockdown, reverted to the old normal, and it's a comforti

I adore getting old. While most of my youthfulness was spent in a blur of emotions and irrational decisions, growing-up at last feels like real freedom. Once captivity is over, life appears as the real chance to see the choices clearly and then pick up something that does not harm either body or soul. Ageing is a luxury train if the right ticket has been bought. It's not the Titanic, definitely. I would rather arrive at the natural destination than end up on the bottom of a frozen sea. I admit the journey starts in a lush environment and ends up in the desert. It is called the cycle of life. To each camel, its own reserve of water. Sharing is for oasis stopovers. Sailing to Byzantium  should be compulsory reading of any mature education curriculum, be it humanities or civil engineering, let's say.