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Sunday, August 30, 2026 - Baty.net

2026-08-30T13:19:16.000Z

Busy day ahead, all self-inflicted:

Replace Fedora with CachyOS on the Framework using the Runbook I made yesterday
Update Emacs to 31 everywhere (it's default on Cachy, but macOS and Fedora need work
Process/Scan a roll of 35mm (test on both SilverFast/macOS and Vuescan/Linux)

UPDATE: That took WAY longer than expected. The Framework's Wifi would drop every few minutes. Had to send Claude Code in to help. Even that took hours. I think we got it, finally. The trick was to pin the Wifi connection to a specific interface/channel and force it to use v5 first and ignore v6. Something to do with the Orbi mesh, I dunno, it works now.

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Old Picture of the Boat-Bridge at Sano, Kozuke Province by Hokusai - James' Coffee Blog

2026-08-30T00:00:00.000Z

Thamara and I are doing an art exchange where we each sent the other person an art-related object to analyse. Thamara sent me a copy of “Beneath the Great Wave: Hokusai & Hiroshige”, a book from the art exhibition of the same name being held at the Whitworth in Manchester, from which I chose a single painting to write about. I sent Thamara my first greeting card in a set I recently purchased. The card has a painting on the front: Henri Edmond-Cross‘ The Pink Cloud. You can read Thamara's post on his website.

The Old Picture of the Boat Bridge at Sano, Kozuke Province (1830) is a woodblock print by Katsushika Hokusai, who, most famously, painted The Great Wave, among other natural subjects. When I was looking through the book that Thamara sent, there were so many prints that appealed to me, but this one in particular stood out. I love winter scenes: of seeing how cold moments are depicted, and how colour is used to depict them.

Image credit: The Metropolitan Museum of Art.

The Boat Bridge print features a bridge that spans across the left centre of the print. When I first looked at the print, I was focused on the surface of the bridge. But, then I wondered: how is this bridge, which looks relatively shallow, constructed? Looking closer, I realised the bridge was supported by boats floating in the water. Rope lines both sides of the bridge, a bridge strong enough to support both people and a horse who are traversing its path.

On the right of the print, a tree towers over the scene. From the perspective where the work was set, the tree is just as tall as the mountain in the background. The power of Nature was a theme in Hokusai’s work. The Great Wave showed a wave towering over both people and Mount Fuji. In comparison, the near-barren tree in this print is relatively peaceful. The mountain in the background, however, towers over the print. Of note, the tree is bending to the left, toward the bridge. Viewing this print, I do feel a bit of unease, from both imaging the way the bridge must sway when it is walked on, and the way the tree leans.

With that said, much of my attention is drawn to the colour of the print: white snow dominates the landscape, covering the mountains and hills in the background. Shades of blue, which are rendered using Prussian blue, a European pigment that was available in Japan from the 1820s onwards, appear throughout the middle of the print, the water darker at the bottom left of the print and lighter toward the top and on the right of the print. Studying the water, I see that the water around the bridge is turbulent, adding again to the sense of unease that this snowy scene depicts.

Indeed, it seems the more I think about this print, the more I see both movement and precariousness. I remember many snowy scenes evoking a peaceful mindset in me – the stillness of winter being what I remember. This print feels more alive: people are moving, the water is moving, the clouds are moving, the bridge is moving. It is even making me think back to Western snowy paintings I have seen and how there are often people moving too. It is amazing how one artwork can transform how I think of others.

Although there are only a few people in the print, I do feel like there is a sense of community: people are moving in the same direction, together, through the snowy landscape; dots of black and grey appear to denote footsteps where people have been walking. Each footstep is a sign of movement, too.

Despite how community comes through in this print (this print really does make me ebb back and forth, almost like the water itself is moving back and forth), I am curious about the two hats in the bottom foreground, which I assume represent people, distanced and obscured. We don’t see their faces. Now that I look more, I realise we don’t see anyone’s faces in the painting. I do wonder what the people in the bottom foreground are doing; they are more hidden than most.

There are two more parts of this print I want to point out. First, the clouds are different from any I have seen in Western art. The clouds look both heavy and light at once: heavy in that, on the left of the print, they are taking up a fair bit of space; light in that it looks like they are moving through the countryside. Second, the trees and shrubs are painted in blue. This makes the work feel somewhat surreal. Although, the blue does complement the white well, creating a beautiful effect.

I haven’t studied Eastern art to any great extent, beyond a short study of Van Gogh’s Bridge in the Rain (After Hiroshige), a painting based on Utagawa Hiroshige’s Sudden Shower over Shin-Ōhashi Bridge and Atake. Browsing through the book that Thamara sent me, I found so many paintings that make me want to learn much more about Japanese art: Hokusai’s Yōrō Waterfall in Mino Province, Hiroshige’s Night View of Matsuchiyama and the San’ya Canal, and more. I’m looking forward to spending more time with this book. Browsing through the book for an hour or so, I already ended up with four bookmarks.

ALT

My left hand holding up the "Beneath the Great Wave: Hokusai & Hiroshige" book in front of a white background. There are three bookmarks in the book, marking pages I want to revisit. Two of the bookmarks are proper bookmarks. The third is an envelope I had lying around.

For more background on Hokusai and Hirsohige, Thamara’s post written after seeing the Japanese prints exhibition at the Whitworth is worth a read.

Thamara Thamara’s post written after seeing the Japanese prints exhibition at the Whitworth You can read Thamara's post on his website Old Picture of the Boat Bridge at Sano, Kozuke Province (1830) The Metropolitan Museum of Art

About idols - Protesilaos Stavrou: Master feed with all updates

2026-08-30T00:00:00.000Z

The idol is a reflection. In Greek, from where we get the English word, we say that “I am staring at my idol in the mirror” («βλέπω το είδωλο μου στον καθρέπτη»). The idol is a representation: it consists in indirectness.

When we think of something as a false idol, we are either referring to an inaccurate representation or to an untrue subject.

The former case can happen if, say, I purport to show a selfie of me which turns out to be a picture of one of my dogs. The idol is false insofar as it does not represent Protesilaos. But as a representation it is true in its indirectness and it is also true in accurately representing my dog. More generally, it is accurately describing something even if it is not that which is supposed to be represented. For example, an abstract painting of me may not be accurate the way a photograph is, though it can be accurate in expressing a feeling in a manner that the photograph cannot. Or it can even be accurate in showing what expression can be made manifest.

The latter case of the untrue subject is more nuanced. Suppose I show you a sketch of philosophyman whom I consider the one true philosopher. You may argue that philosophyman is sheer fantasy or some fallen angel or, anyhow, not the one true philosopher. If “untrue subject” means that there is no person who is philosophyman, then we are focusing on one specific interpretation of the representation. Philosophyman may not be referring to a person, however: it can be an abstraction, such as a set of qualities that are found in all philosophers hitherto. Philosophers think things through and so, philosophyman must be the most intense thinker. To think things through, one must be patient. Philosophyman is thus the most patient. If philosophers are indeed thinking things through and are patient, then philosophyman is an accurate representation of the philosopher as such, though not of any one person in particular. And if this is inaccurate, then we are back to the previous point.

The only way for the subject of a representation to be considered untrue is for that very subject to be impossible. Though what does it even mean to have a representation of that which is impossible? If it is impossible, there is nothing that can be predicated on it, as it does not occur. If it does occur, then it is possible qua occurrence. For example, I cannot say “nothingness is beautiful” because the very conception of “nothingness” is already reified in my mind as “somethingness”, which then acquires the quality “beautiful”. I hold, then, that strictly speaking anything that can be represented cannot be false in the sense of being impossible.

How about the representation of an imaginary being then? Suppose we have a blue dragon on the mountains of Cyprus that types on the keyboard with telekinesis. Such a being does not exist in my area, I promise. Yet in describing this dragon, I have already rendered it as a representation of a thought. It already is a figure of the thinkable and, ipso facto, it always was in the potential of the thinkable. You can picture it in your head now, using your imagination and you can add your own qualities to it. The being is not real, in the sense that we cannot go out there and meet it, but it also is real, actually and potentially, in the sense that it exists and can exist as thought.

Now blue dragons may seem far-fetched, so let me use a practical example. A program I imagined is not real in the sense that I cannot go find it somewhere out there. Before implementing it, it is a thought or series of thoughts, if you will. These thoughts are real: they did happen. Furthermore, these thoughts can create material consequences through their application. Through the program I connect the thoughts in my head to material consequences, realised through the computer.

In broader terms, every plan that is carried out from idea to application is a program, already in the literal sense of that which is “pre-written” (πρόγραμμα, προ (prior), γράμμα (letter or that which is written)). The house I built existed before I built it, though not as materials pieced together but as a clear plan of all the disparate pieces coalescing around an organising principle, which gives us an organism by the way.

At the time before the program is implemented, we can say that it is not real in the sense that there is no instantiation of it beside what is in one’s mind. Here, “real” is understood as matter. Though, again, it would be real in the sense of being a mental presence and thus of having the potential to become or otherwise contribute to something other than the idea itself.

There is no untrue subject thus far.

False idols are then understood as an alias for false gods: people are worshipping something that is not true. This, however, requires a definitive notion of truth. For example, I may think that money is a false god and, by extension, people who worship money are doing something wrong because money is not the highest value in the world. “False idol”, here, does not make money unreal nor the worship of it and all derivative patterns of behaviour: those are happening. The appeal to “false” then is not literal. It is a shorthand way of formulating an exhortation such as “there are higher values, and there is the value which is the highest of all, so worshipping the lower value as the only one that matters disqualifies other values and thus makes people not think of them, which in turn conditions their behaviour in a manner that causes longer-term problems”.

I could keep elaborating on this exhortation, though what I wrote is already enough to demonstrate that the phrase “false idol” is itself an idol, for it too consists in indirectness. We have a short phrase which we employ instead of the much more verbose statement. The compact form thus symbolises the expanded form. Idols are symbols and symbols are idols. We can use the words interchangeably, unless we focus narrowly on the meaning of “reflection in the mirror”, as I noted above (though even that is pictorial, else symbolic).

Consider again the reflection in the mirror. A reflection of me is a symbol of me in the sense that it is a facet of the entire world that I am: it does not have feelings, for instance, which means that it does not have my multifacetedness. If I show you a selfie of myself, I am showing you an idol which points to the actual person but which nevertheless has a life of its own. The idol is its own presence. When you check the picture of someone you have never met, the idol still engenders in you a reaction: you might for example find the person attractive and you might further imagine that this person is polite as well as funny. We then notice how idols are as real as a punch in the face: they too can produce material consequences.

That which produces an effect is real at least insofar as it exhibits the capacity to form part of the cosmic structure by which cause leads to effect, effect leads to cause. The idol of me is of the world as much as I am. The difference between us is one of degree: I am more complex.

Now think again about money as a false idol. We realise that it too, qua idol, is as real as you and me. Dismissing it as “false” is a figure of speech, for we cannot affect its state, as aforementioned.

Which brings us to the exhortation against the false idol; an exhortation which itself employs an idol, else a symbol. The exhortation rests on the notion of an absolute value and, thus, of a ranking among values. For there to be a ranking, there has to be something that is common to all values which we can discern. The relationship between the lower values and the absolute value must then be one of reflection, else representation, else one facet versus multifacetedness. All the selfies of me and all the words used to describe me are symbols of me, yet neither individually nor collectively do they exhaust me and nor do they amount to me as such. The same for values: the lower values are idols of the absolute value insofar as they consist in indirectness.

Can we have directness? Can it be absolute? Can we even have it for the banal case of a personal relation? Do you know anyone fully? Do you even know yourself fully? To know one person fully means to know not only its actuality but also its potentiality. If I know myself fully, then I must know what each of my constituents is and to also know it fully. I have to have full knowledge of every cell and of every process within it and between them. And so on. Factoring in the potential, I must know it fully, since if I learn something new about myself through experience, then I necessarily did not know myself fully. This potential extends to all of my constituents in isolation and in their interplay.

If I know myself fully, I am still not dealing with directness, as there is knowledge about something. To be direct, the knowledge of the thing would be the thing. As such, the potential me would be the actual me. The future me would be the present me. You understand this is no longer a human being.

The absolute value, which we may describe as ineffable, essence as such, supreme God, or whatever we choose, can only be known through a representation. The reason is that to know the absolute absolutely we too have to have knowledge of its potential. In other words, we have to be omniscient. Though knowledge which is absolute must coincide with presence which is absolute, for it cannot be about something else or outside or, anyhow, indirect. Thus omniscience is ubiquity. And absolute ubiquity demands that there is no cause for it, as that is indirectness, so it always is. There is no before it, no after it, no outside of it, no it and something else.

To not belabour the point I am making, here is the gist: those who fight you on the premise that they are against your false idols do not realise that idols is all we have in a state of indirectness.

Saturday, August 29, 2026 - Baty.net

2026-08-29T23:00:22.000Z

Hey. It's been a spell since I've posted here. I'm currently infatuated with Pure Blog running at baty.blog, but I wanted to test my Emacs->11ty->VPS deployment on the newly-restored 2015 Thinkpad. If you're reading this, it worked.

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Mounts Krn and Batognica - Manuel Moreale RSS Feed

2026-08-29T16:15:00.000Z

I lost count of how many times I looked—and photographed—Mount Krn over the past decade. It’s impossible to miss, standing right there in the background of almost all my walks around the valleys, with its 2245 meters and its characteristic gently sloping side.

And yet, I never hiked it. The reason why I never hiked it was that it’s a long hike and past me wasn’t a fan of long hikes. But past me is, well, in the past. Current me, on the other hand, loves long hikes. And to be fair, “long” is a relative term. How long does a hike need to be to be considered long anyway?

The route for this hike has been sitting on my watch ready to go for weeks, waiting for the summer heat to come down a little bit. I’m a stupid hiker, but going up a mountain in 35°C is too stupid, even for me.

And down it finally went. Randevouz with a friend was set for 7 am. The plan was straightforward: drive together about an hour, crossing the border with Slovenia, going through Kobarid, to then reach a parking spot inside the Triglav National Park.

The whole area around mount Krn is a lovely plateau, gently sloping uphill, with cows and sheep free to roam around. The scenery is wonderfully relaxing. There are many ways to go up these mountains, our plan is to summit Krn first, and once there, do a long loop touching Mount Batognica on our way back to the start.

Climbing up is surprisingly easy. It’s a long, easy walk that takes us from roughly 1000 meters above sea level to the 2254 of the summit in just a bit less than 3 hours. I can’t remember the last time I gained this much elevation this easily.

And getting to the top is rewarding. The view is stunning. On one side, facing south, a mix of mountains, hills, and the sea far in the distance. On the other side, facing north, a gorgeous assembly of peaks and valleys, trees and rocks. Also from up here, an unusual angle of Mount Matajur. Funny how a place can look almost unrecognisable when seen from a different perspective.

Going from the Krn to the Batognica doesn’t take much. The two peaks are near each other. What I didn’t know is how much history is still up there, laying on a ground that carries the scars of the First World War.

Rusted barbed wire is everywhere. So are chunks of metals, and rusted shovels and other tools. A few artillery shells are also there, now a memorial. Also bunkers. So many bunkers dug into these mountains. Walking through these places never fails to remind you of the insanity that those wars were. So many lost lives and for what?

The clouds decide to pay a visit, the scenery turns grayscale in the blink of an eye. I’m glad the sun is not hammering us on the way down. It’s less hot than it was a few weeks ago, but it’s still summer, and it’s definitely not cold, even up here.

The descent to the starting point is long, and mostly enjoyable. A couple of rough kilometres towards the end, the humidity comes back, and the trail is all of a sudden slippery and a bit overgrown. We lose almost 700 meters of elevation in just a couple of kilometres.

The view from the other end of the loop is still magnificent. And the cows are still here, still minding their own business. What else are they supposed to do after all? A bit less than 7 hours have passed, and we’re back at the car.

Krn didn’t disappoint. Batognica is worth hiking. The whole Triglav National Park is worth exploring. Slovenia is a beautiful country, and if you’re an outdoorsy person, it won’t disappoint you.

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Emacs: completion-preview-mode and the Completions buffer (Emacs 31) - Protesilaos Stavrou: Master feed with all updates

2026-08-29T00:00:00.000Z

The built-in completion-preview-mode lets us expand what we type in a minimalist, distraction-free way. It can also be combined with the default Completions buffer to show all the available options. The Completions buffer has several nice features, starting with Emacs 31, which make this an excellent combination that does not require any third party packages (though packages can still augment the overall experience). I also mention the Emacs 31 ‘newcomers-presets’ theme, which configures some of these options as well: it is a great way to start your Emacs configuration.

Sample configuration

(use-package completion-preview
  :ensure nil
  :demand t
  :bind
  ( :map completion-preview-active-mode-map
    ("M-i" . completion-preview-insert-word)
    ("M-n" . completion-preview-next-candidate)
    ("M-p" . completion-preview-prev-candidate)
    ("M-" . completion-preview-insert)
    ;; With TAB we effectively defer to the *Completions* buffer to
    ;; show more completion candidates at once.
    ("" . completion-preview-complete))
  :config
  (setq completion-preview-minimum-symbol-length 2)
  (global-completion-preview-mode 1))

;; I have a more detailed configuration (and explanation) that works
;; with Emacs 31 built-in completion capabilities:
;; https://protesilaos.com/codelog/2026-07-29-emacs-default-minibuffer-completion-overview/.
(use-package minibuffer
  :ensure nil
  :demand t
  :bind
  ( :map completion-in-region-mode-map
    ("M-i" . minibuffer-choose-completion)
    ("M-n" . minibuffer-next-completion)
    ("M-p" . minibuffer-previous-completion))
  :config
  (setq completions-format 'one-column)
  (setq completions-max-height 12)
  (setq completion-auto-help t)
  (setq completion-auto-select nil)
  (setq minibuffer-visible-completions t)
  (setq completion-eager-update t))

Finally, the newcomers-presets theme is an excellent way to start your configuration. It is available as part of Emacs 31. Put this at the top of your init.el:

(load-theme 'newcomers-presets)

Flow - James' Coffee Blog

2026-08-29T00:00:00.000Z

Natural light bathed the Royal Mile on the warm, summer’s morning. The Fringe is close to being finished, but there are still a few days of shows left. I was standing amid a city wakening up: where, hours later, there would be music and singing and crowds.

I gave my day to serendipity. Having no plans for the day, I let my feet take me where they wanted to go. I had a coffee and, because of the warm sunlight beaming through the window, left the cafe early and decided to go for a long walk to see more of the city. I wanted to see trees and beautiful old buildings, all sights on my way to my eventual destination: a panoramic view of the city.

When I look over Edinburgh from one of its hills, I get lost in detail. There is so much I could look at. I usually look forward, and then scan around, appreciating the rows of houses and the trees and the other hills that stand tall throughout the city. I also listen. There were several tourists at the top of the hill, some of whom had friends who were showing them around. I revelled in hearing Edinburgh described to people from other places, who I hope, even though they may only be visiting for a little while, will always remember their time here.

The cool breeze and the conversation in the background and the panoramic views helped me slow down after a long walk. I looked up to the clouds and thought how still they looked. I looked over to the silver sea in the bay, with Bass Rock in the distance. I turned around and looked at hills, and turned back to see more. Green, all around. Life, all around.

On the long walk back, I listened to songs in my earphones that I heard performed live earlier this week. The artist's music had a newfound resonance. “I have seen them before!” I sang along to myself as I walked, past the sandstone buildings and the green trees that line the streets. In no time, I was back in the city centre.

The joy of the Fringe is that you don’t need to do any planning. If you open your ears, you are bound to hear something. An electric guitarist stood out to me. Approaching the music, I saw he was performing solo on a bright yellow guitar. He had a few pieces of equipment – synthesisers(?), pedals – that he used to mix his music. It was a true delight to watch. During his closing riff, he lay on the cobble street with his guitar held over his chest and played with the intensity I imagine you can only play after practicing for years.

I caught the tail end of his performance, after which point he gave a charismatic speech and I kept walking. Coming from a park, I heard an acoustic guitar and a woman’s voice. I recognised the song. Valerie. Bagpipes started to play in the background. This is Edinburgh. Yet the artist’s soft voice and acoustic guitar, which she played without a plectrum, had my full attention. She finished her song, and ended her performance with applause. I joined in with the applause: it’s the least I can do for someone who has the courage to stand in the middle of the city and bring music.

On reflection, today was not the first time I have heard guitars and bagpipes simultaneously, and it probably won’t be the last. Walking around the city at this time of year, you never know what you might see and hear and feel. Therein, the serendipity of Edinburgh: a city of Nature and music.

Tiny Awards, 2026 Edition - Manuel Moreale RSS Feed

2026-08-28T12:15:00.000Z

If you’re a fan of the web, you probably want to know that voting is now open for that lovely initiative that is the Tiny Awards, running for the 4th consecutive year.

I got asked to be a judge this time around, and my votes helped shape the shortlist of candidate that is currently up on the site and I was pleased to see that two of the five sites I picked are part of the final group.

Picking five from the list of submissions was a lot of fun. There were so many interesting websites submitted, and it makes me happy to see that the quirky web is still thriving.

Go cast your vote! You have time till September 25th.

Thank you for keeping RSS alive. You're awesome.

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Français: Petit à petit - Protesilaos Stavrou: Master feed with all updates

2026-08-28T00:00:00.000Z

Quand nous apprenons quelque chose, nous faisons souvent l’erreur de vouloir parvenir l’expertise rapidement. Mais le monde n’est marche pas comme ça. Si nous n’avons pas de patience, notre projets serons manqué.

L’expérience est toujours le même: au début nous avons l’enthousiasme pour commencer, nous disons que cette fois nous concentrer tous nos efforts à ce projet là, les premiers jours tous vont bien, et après les premiers difficultés nous quittons.

C’est toujours possible de justifier notre décision de quitter. Il y a quelque fois les raisons objectif. Mais c’est possible de rationaliser notre chois et ne prenons jamais le responsabilité de notre actions. Pour moi, ce qui est plus important est d’être sûr pour la raison originaire. Pourquoi voulons-nous commencer à apprendre cet chose?

De mon côte, je veux pratiquer à écrire, parler, lire, et écouter en français pour avoir la capacité—et la possibilité—de créer les connections avec les gens francophones. En général, je veux faire des amis, pas seulement en français mais aux autres domaines aussi.

J’ai de patience. Je veux aller petit à petit: faire un truque ici, lire un article là, écouter à cet chanson, et cetera. Comme nous disons en grec «je vais doucement pour arriver rapidement».

The joy of - James' Coffee Blog

2026-08-28T00:00:00.000Z

herein, a few moments of joy from recent days.

The joy of:

Realising I have a phrase to use in a piece of writing that I need to write down.
Jotting down an idea on the closest surface.
Hearing a new mashup from my favourite singer for the first time.
Exploring a book with pictures. I really felt like I was exploring.
Noticing how much reading about an artwork helps me understand it.
Working on pieces of writing with others.
Arranging mementos into my new letter rack, and trying my best to stack my museum maps into layers so I can see as many as possible.
Starting a new scrapbook, and placing the first stickers in – of making the book my own.
Autumn rains, and how water nourishes the ground.
Trying to learn a new song on the guitar.
Tidying up.
Seeing someone smile.
Someone smiling back.
Friendship.

Midnight scrapbooking - James' Coffee Blog

2026-08-27T00:00:00.000Z

A warm glow from the still-on kitchen light passed through the hallway, illuminating the floral book, opened, on my lap. The night’s task: to start making the book my own.

My impulse to create new things – music, stories, memories – is not dampened by the absence of daylight. Every few months, I sit at my piano, playing whatever music I am in the mood for; sometimes, I write a story under the cover of moonlight and my fairy lights. Tonight, I felt it was a good moment to start my new scrapbook, to do something calming to ease me out of one day and into the next.

I have had mementos from day trips and travel and stickers sent to me from friends sitting on my coffee table for the last few days, the first step in moving these memories from the paper bag I got from the British Library into somewhere easier to spend time with, somewhere more visible. I have tickets from the National Gallery of Scotland next to tickets from the Berlin Cathedral next to postage stamps I have cut out from letters. Many of these will go in my new scrapbook.

I started last night by collecting all the stickers I have received or picked up and had not yet put into my scrapbook. I keep most of my stickers on the back pages, so that I have plenty of room to add more. With a stack of stickers next to me, I started deciding where each should go, placing all my breakfast stickers that I received from a friend on one part of the page, and stickers from web communities on another part of the page: my favourite things – breakfast, the web, friendship – in sticker form, all in the same place.

There was no clock so I could not see the time. I was instead tuned into the memories associated with each object. Where did I collect this sticker? I sat with more questions. Where should each sticker go on the page? Do I have any duplicate stickers that I can send to friends? As the blank page became more colourful, I felt a little moment of joy.

I still have many more mementos to sift through: museum maps and programmes and the kinds of objects that don’t fit into a scrap book (floppy disks from conferences?). Each one transports me back in time a little bit. I think of the people, the places, the spaces, the conversations, the hopes, the dreams: adventures through the years. And then I think about all the blank pages, ready to be filled with colour.

Games: Bravely Default II - Protesilaos Stavrou: Master feed with all updates

2026-08-27T00:00:00.000Z

Bravely Default II is a modern Japanese Role Playing Game that pays tribute to the artstyle of JRPGs of yore (spoilers throughout). As is the case with practically every entry in this genre, you are in control of a bunch of kids, or nerds, or nerdy kids, or you get what I am saying, who have no business being stalwart warriors yet somehow are the world’s only hope of survival.

The Bravely Default II characters are colourful and the land looks as pretty as a watercolour painting. Good guys talk with a British accent, while even the bad ones are masters of etiquette. I am surprised there was no 5 o’clock kap-à-tee at any point in the adventure. Or, if there was, I missed it because us Greek savages only understand café frappé and have no sensitivity for that milky tea gimmick. And, of course, the dragons have Welsh-sounding names. This is the most believable part. Wales is truly inhabited by dragons. I know from experience. Just tell them they are English and see them breath fire!

It looks adorable. Yet underneath that thin layer of kawaii lies a primordial evil bent to subsume the entirety of existence. This is the final boss. It is the generic “darkness” that has no personality or backstory whatsoever. Sure, we must drive away the darkness with extreme prejudice because I need plenty of sunshine over here to take irresistibly attractive selfies. But games, especially of such high technical acumen, can do better. Compare this to Tales of Berseria, which has a nuanced antagonist and an overall interesting dynamic between the main characters: https://protesilaos.com/games/2026-06-11-tales-of-berseria/.

Generally, Bravely Default II is not strong on characterisation. Where it excels is in its gameplay, specifically, the battle system. Fights are turn-based, as is typically the case with JRPGs. The titular Bravely and Default mechanics form a credit system where you can play future turns in present time (Bravely) or defend and stock up your turns to spend them at a later point (Default). The credit system works on a per-character basis. One character can, for example, perform an attack three times at once and then just hang around doing nothing for another three turns while the rest are holding on to dear life on their normal one-action-per-turn basis.

It is simple and super effective! In the common base, this system lets you blitz through random enemy encounters. Go full Bravely on the monsters and you will most probably consign them to oblivion before they have a chance to fight back. A single turn is enough to win the battle, especially once your party grows in skill.

The Bravely and Default mechanics get much more interesting once you invest the time to specialise in the various “jobs” on offer. Each job allows your characters to learn skills they can bring to the battle arena. Many jobs complement each other nicely and can affect how turns are played out. You can, for example, have two fighters maximise the damage output with Bravely and then two spellcasters render everyone immune to all types of attack for a few turns. As such, you do not have to suffer during that downtime. Do it right and even the most fearsome boss will not stand a chance against you.

In addition to its fun and strategic gameplay, Bravely Default II also has settings to make fights more tolerable. You can control how often they occur and how fast they are played out. I like this because most fights require virtually no skill to be overcome and there is nothing interesting happening in them.

By contrast, the average JRPG opts for realism on this front: everything is a grindfest. There are random enemy encounters everywhere that take forever to overcome, the overworld has as much depth as a theme park, cities give the illusion of choice while your life still is on rails, and nobody is interested in doing that inane fetch quest they have for you. Bravely Default II understands it is an otherwise shallow game, so it has the decency to provide options to cut through the nonsense.

And, to be fair, the story is okay overall. There are nice parts to it and high points that can keep you invested until the end. I enjoyed it, while recognising that it is nothing groundbreaking either.

In conclusion, I have to highlight the exceptional soundtrack composed by Revo. Combined with the visuals and the underlying mechanics, they make Bravely Default II a piece of fine craftspersonship all around. Do not listen to the soundtrack if you have not played the game though. Do it after the fact to relive memorable moments, such as the intensity you felt while powering through the phase when the Urgent Tidings piece was playing.

Edinburgh Summer Sessions - James' Coffee Blog

2026-08-26T00:00:00.000Z

You feel like you have joined a community in a festival line. Everyone is together, waiting for music — we all came here with a common purpose, a purpose that we can see, a purpose that we can feel. We came here because we are human. Many people are dressed up, in all colours — blues and pinks and browns and purples. Time feels amorphous — isn’t is always? — where minutes pass like seconds and seconds pass like minutes. We are all surrounded by conversation, in the tone only made possible with anticipation in the air.

We stand near an airport and yet the centre of the stage is the line — we are in our own journey, one where the only distance we need to traverse is to the front of the queue. We are a rainbow among the hills; we are a bastion of colour on a grey day; we are the music. People wear red heart glasses and hold up phones to their foreheads to play the game where you have to guess what word has been assigned to you. We always find ways to pass the time — to find fun in the seemingly banal moments.

People wear custom made t-shirts. People hold their hands up while on the phone to signal their location to newly arrived friends. Stars on cheeks and sequins on shoes. My way of passing the time is listening to music in my headphones — time is carried forward with the melody. And with the smiles in the air as groups of friends in the queue have fun.

While waiting, there is the joy of looking around and seeing how far you can see. And of hearing the occasional sound from the stage — the loud bass coming from a sound check. Every beat builds anticipation for the first act. Of realising I will soon see some of my favourite singers.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

We are never too far from a castle in Scotland. There was one visible a couple of hundred meters away from the stage.

While waiting, I enjoyed seeing the guitars standing on the stage, waiting for a performer. Music is played on the speakers while we all waited for the first act – Alessi Rose. The music is fading into another song. Guitars are being tuned on stage — all the prep work required to do a show. Backing musicians are emerging. Someone has a bright pink guitar. Someone has brought a bright blue dolphin balloon. (I would later see many more of these.)

How parts of the crowd join in to sing I Want it That Way even though it isn’t an official song. People are here to connect. To sing. I am singing along too, for no particular reason other than to join the moment. Someone has a tattoo that says “Love is art” that looks like a Polaroid. The music sings of solitary company, is that what I seek?

Today is the first time I have been to a summer festival like this. It’s amazing how much time can pass without your realising something is a first.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

The crowd cheers as the first artist comes in the stage. Many people have their phones out, eager to record the moment Alessi Rose comes on stage. The sound of the guitar comes first. Smoke machines are running. The music is building. I feel the bass of every note. Then, a scream as Alessi comes on stage. The background is like a stained glass window.

You can feel the silence before the bass kicks in. I can barely sing over the bass. The joy as the crowd joins in as Alessi positions the microphone toward the stage. Alessi jumps and so many others do too. I am smiling so much right now. “Edinburgh, let’s fucking go.”

It feels almost surreal to be here right now. The joy of feeling like you are making music as a member of the crowd. Alessi thanks Lorde because she wouldn’t be here without her. There are so many people without whom I wouldn’t be here.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

“I encourage dancing.” — Alessi. People are waving their arms to the song. Someone is swaying the dolphin too. I am joining in by singing when I can. The joy of seeing how much Alessi’s dancing is in sync with the music. I am in a place where is is okay to sing as loud as one wants, to dance. Of being fully in the moment. Is that what euphoria feels like?

The act over, I sit in the afterglow of the music, feeling as if my eyes could close for a little moment to feel the songs once more — their echoes in my eyes and my head and my heart. It is amazing how people want to sing to the music between performances — Mr. Brightside. I find myself doing it too. Music is contagious.

Someone is carrying an Eras Tour tote bag. There is a family playing a card game in the grass while we all wait for the next act. Someone in the crowd is acting like they are a superstar, occasionally shouting to try and get others to cheer for them. A few people did – all of these serendipitous moments made the night even more special.

We all contain so many songs, so many stories. So many colours, so much energy. We are all so connected.

Two people just kissed, and embraced each other in such a wonderful hug. It is a joy to sit and watch the world go by here — to feel the atmosphere that a festival makes; the colour and the music and the resting and the waiting and the passion and the joy and the anticipation and the first moments, of being with and among people, of seeing so many people dance. Of feeling how words flow now because I am happy and curious about the environment around me.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

Audrey Hobert performed next, coming on stage in a trench coat so long it covered both her legs and the ladder under which she stood as she sang her first song. Underneath the trench coat she was wearing another, smaller, trench coat.

Hobert’s performance was a delight. I sang – shouted – along to as many songs as I could. You could tell when the crowd knew a song better. “sue me” was sung particularly loud. Hobert danced with such passion and energy that it made me feel like I too could dance.

Between songs, Hobert played a little trick on us, saying “I’d love to be on that ferris wheel.” People look back. There is a brief pause. “There is no ferris wheel. Made you look.”

I haven’t screamed like that in so long. Singing every word that I could, and humming where I couldn’t. Every song — every moment — was magical.

Someone has a Lover heart around their eye — their outfit is all pink.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

Zara Larsson’s concert is best summed up by the lady near me: “oh my god that was so fucking good.” That was incredible. I was shouting along to lyrics I don’t fully know. It was so fun and colourful.

During the performance of Lush Life, Larsson invited an audience member up on stage to do the dance associated with the song – there were many people around me doing the same dance, too. (Should I learn it?) The person invited up was incredible, dancing almost in perfect sync with Larsson. There was something wonderful about how someone from the crowd could so naturally perform in front of so many people. That was one of the highlights of the evening.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

“Dear person behind me, the world is a better place with you in it.” was written in white on the dark green jumper.

Cruel Summer plays on the speakers in the break after Larsson’s performance. I immediately start singing. I am writing this while singing, so well do I know the song. Many of us are singing along. Many of us were closer to miming — maybe we are saying our voices? I feel my throat getting sore after singing to the last three artists.

Lorde will be performing soon.

Two groups of friends just ran to each other cheering. Maybe one of the groups was a late arrival? Two friends were dancing a dance where they each tried to tap each other’s feet while dancing — what a joy to watch, until one of the friends fell over, but they did so with such grace it was almost as if they knew it would happen.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

The sky was darkening. It was past 9pm. The crowd lit up with excitement as Lorde came on stage, who was playing a synthesiser in the corner of the stage. The stage illuminations came. The performance began.

I didn’t realise how many of Lorde’s songs I knew until I started singing along. I shouted to all my favourites: What Was That, Ribs, Green Light, and followed along with many more. I wasn’t expecting to hear Green Light. That Green Light, I want it. (shouted) I loved The Louvre (the photo below was taken during the performance of The Louvre):

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

The last time I heard a scream like the one I heard when Girl, So Confusing came on was at the Eras Tour – the kind of collective scream that sounds like a loud white noise for a moment. Then the music takes over and everyone is singing along in unison, jumping to the beat as the song reached its peaks.

I was fascinated by Lorde’s use of technology in her performance. Lorde would look to different cameras to create an effect that played on the televisions. She was rendered as a point cloud when she was dancing at one point, which created a delightful effect. Lorde wore a jacket that beamed out red lights at one point, as if her jacket were an external, glowing heart that reflected her inner self.

Lorde’s performance was electric: the volume, the lights, the vocals, the sounds, the dancing, the screams.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

After Hobert’s performance, in the break between performances, a person near me got a notification that Dolly Parton had passed away. They shared the news with all their friends, and it spread around further. There was collective disbelief. It was strange to be hearing the news in a crowd of people. I’m not sure Dolly’s passing fully registered until this morning, when I reviewed all my notes from the concert, many of which made their way into this post.

I listened to Islands in the Stream after breakfast, and read the news in full. Rest in peace Dolly. Thank you for bringing so much music into the world for us to sing, and feel.

Français: Emacs en direct avec Sacha Chua et Fabrice Niessen @ 2026-08-27 14:30 Europe/Athènes - Protesilaos Stavrou: Master feed with all updates

2026-08-26T00:00:00.000Z

Le jeudi 27 août 2026 à 14:30 Sacha Chua, Fabrice Niessen, et moi nous réunirons une deuxième fois pour parler d’Emacs. Sacha a déjà écris l’article pour cet événement: https://sachachua.com/blog/2026/08/27-aout-emacs-chat-fabrice-niessen-en-francais-partie-2/

À demain!

Wonders of Web Weaving, Episode 16 - James' Coffee Blog

2026-08-25T00:00:00.000Z

The sixteenth episode of Wonders of Web Weaving is out:

In Episode 16, I chat with Nic, the author of nicchan.me about, among other things, using the web as a design tool, web accessibility, learning from others' code, and more.

I hope you enjoy the episode!

Wonders of Web Weaving also has an RSS feed you can use to follow along from wherever you get your podcasts.

The sixteenth episode of Wonders of Web Weaving is out Wonders of Web Weaving also has an RSS feed Nic nicchan.me

Poem: Hymn to the falcon (Ύμνος στο γεράκι) - Protesilaos Stavrou: Master feed with all updates

2026-08-25T00:00:00.000Z

Like the falcon I shall live
in cliffs and wild mountains
there I will build my nest
on the land that rejects
the opportunists
Through my everyday life
I will demonstrate to people
that honour cannot be sold
integrity cannot be bought
and the values of the ancestors
are above profit

Όπως το γεράκι θα ζήσω
σε γκρεμούς και άγρια βουνά
εκεί θα χτίσω την φωλιά μου
στην γη εκείνη που αρνείται
τους καιροσκόπους
Μέσα από τον καθημερινό μου βίο
θα δείξω στους ανθρώπους
πως η τιμή δεν πωλείται
η ακεραιότητα δεν αγοράζεται
και οι αξίες των προγόνων
είναι υπεράνω του κέρδους

First moments - James' Coffee Blog

2026-08-24T00:00:00.000Z

When I got out of bed this morning, I felt a chill from the autumn air that had been flowing through the room since yesterday evening. The air was cooled by midnight and would soon be warmed by the burgeoning sun rising over the hills. The seasons are changing. I can feel it.

I opened the window and looked onto the white horizon sky; so intense was the white sky it took me a few moments to notice the faint blues that were already above me and extended across most of the rest of the sky. I love this time of year, when I wake up closer to the sunrise now that it happens a bit later in the morning. The sunlight illuminated the rusty leaves on the tips of a tree outside, a tree still green in its core but, like all trees, starting to change as summer becomes autumn.

I thought about the first moments of the day. I found great joy in looking out the window for the first time this morning, the same joy as I feel every time I see the sun rise. I revelled in noting the sights and feelings and sounds of the first moments of the day – of seeing the sunrise, feeling the chill in the air, and hearing pouring the boiling water from the kettle into my favourite tea cup, of feeling the warmth of the tea as I cusped my hands around the cosy cup, of enjoying all the light coming through the windows, of appreciating how green the hills are at this time in the morning.

With every step, illuminated by daylight, thinking about how every day is new, I felt ever more ready for the day ahead.

Independence, symbiosis, and trance music - Protesilaos Stavrou: Master feed with all updates

2026-08-24T00:00:00.000Z

This is an excerpt from my journal.

People who visit me make the same kind of remark: “quiet, huh?”. Their ears are used to a different environment. Their first impression is informed by their prior conditioning and is true given that state of affairs. Though the mountain is not silent. Nature never rests. All that is present, is dancing.

There is ambient music all around, yet you cannot notice it right away. You must first slow down and adapt to your surroundings. Only then do you begin to hear the melody of the wind blowing against the leaves, of crickets and frogs singing in concert until the early morning hours, of birds flying right above you during the day and of owls heralding another nightfall. Stand next to the canes where aromatic roses grow and the honeybee busily prepares for wintertime. There by the creek, where the water flows while gentle breeze touches your face, close your eyes and let the outside become the inside. You shall begin to walk along the coast, listening to the waves, as you remain still in these mountainous hinterlands.

You do not have to travel far to experience the world. A small slice of it is enough, provided you examine it attentively. What I describe applies to my specific locus. It also is true metaphorically for how one comes to terms with who they are. Even if you travel to the furthest edges of the universe, all you can ever find is that which is present right where you are now. It is always there, yet you cannot discern it because you are not paying attention. Just as there is no running away from your shadow, there is nothing else to be had than what you have.

In our inexperience, we seek to connect with that which we call great or transcendent or true by searching for it somewhere else. We underestimate what is here and believe it cannot possibly be special in its banality. “Maybe I should visit the Parthenon and the Pyramids and all the great monuments of civilisation to understand how people reached their pinnacle” is how we might go about it. “If only I do this spiritual practice long enough, then I will ascend”. This is the mind of the idolater in action: it grows attached to tokens, appearances, allegories, and believes that the divine consists in the vainglory of grandeur or shininess or that it is limited to representations and customs.

And, indeed, there is nothing wrong with proceeding thus as you cannot go anywhere that is not already here: the idolater can still find that which is beyond the idols. Though turn your attention to the ground and observe this little flower. Do it with your full focus. Forget about the works of empire and the deeds of humankind: can you create a single flower? Have you contemplated what it takes for there to exist a flower?

Once you understand that the flower is because the world is and the world is because the flower is, you are ready to travel without moving. There is no single way to arrive at this realisation. You might do it by savouring every taste to be savoured. Or by paying attention to the small and the humble in your milieu. The path does not matter. The destination is the same: to exclaim “you are, thus I am; I am, thus you are”.

If you want to know how to go from Paris to Berlin, you might be tempted to think that there is one or a few possible routes: there are infinite. You can go directly by plane. You can do it by train with a connection through Brussels. You may travel by bicycle or even on foot. You can go by way of first touring the planet. It is not even limited to the planet: you can orbit the moon and then visit Berlin. And so on. For as long as you insist that there is only one true way, you are not willing to experience the consistency of the world and thus that which is ever present in your midst.

Even before we are born, we subsist in an immediate symbiotic relationship with our mother. Once we are born, we continue to subsist symbiotically by being fully dependent on others. As we grow, we develop faculties that empower us to act independently. The transition to adulthood is experienced as the shift from symbiosis to independence. And for a while we might think this is indeed the case and that we actually are independent. Though we are misled by the appearances into thinking that we ever become as much. Our presence is always symbiotic. For a single presence to exist, the entirety exists.

One becomes a philosopher by studying philosophy but also by not studying philosophy. This is because of the consistency of the world. We can go to different places, seeking unrelated things, only to discover exactly the same. One way to appreciate this is by reconsidering what I mentioned about the mountain ambience. When you notice the silence, you are effectively admitting that there was and is something beside you. And when you discover that silence is not actually the absence of presence, you again admit that there is a world. Everyone knows this, though not everyone remembers.

Here is an example from when I was a child. I always worked with music in the background. It helped me immerse myself in the project I was committed to. Music effectively insulate me from the rest of the world. This practice started when I was around ten years old. At the time, I discovered trance music, which is about the most niche genre you could get in Greece, at least in those pre-Internet times. Here are a couple of examples, which I consider masterpieces:

Milky Way by Space Odyssey https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4yU5L3tdsRI (I first listened to this in the album Trance Wars 2).
Megamix by Soundreamer https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eKqk6KhScI8 (I remember this from the album Shiva Space Technology 5).

Listening to trance music can feel unsettling. There are no lyrics and no easy way to catch the tunes. The patterns are abstract and the possibilities seem endless. Most people will not enjoy the openendedness. They prefer clear-cut instructions that reduce their discretion to the point where they do not have to think at all. Trance invites you to have situational awareness while relinquishing the want for control that comes from your fears. It teaches you to be there, where the melody is as it happens, and to adapt to its transitions. As such, trance music is one way to both insulate yourself from your surroundings and become one with your surroundings through the engrossing experience.

I eventually stopped listening to music while working. I only play it when I have the mental space to give it my undivided attention. What I have achieved with this change is essentially nothing. Behind every rationality there is an emotion. I simply chose to blend in with a different environment, which is my mountain. I have more words now, which gives the impression that I have achieved something greater than my younger self, but that is a mistake. I still consist in symbiosis and have not gone anywhere else in the meantime.

Couched in those terms, consider what I wrote last week in criticism and the Internet friend (2026-08-16):

One time I was having a chat with someone who shared with me their experience with psychedelics. I have never done psychedelics because I never felt the need to. Though I am not against them in principle and am always eager to give my undivided attention to any topic. What I am against is abuse and recklessness: the freedom to ruin yourself is a freedom I have no respect for. I am, if you will, opposed to “heroin-ising the LSD in your ignorance” as Nikolas Asimos correctly points out in one of his songs: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gW6ucfl36m4.

As we were talking, I expounded on some of my thoughts about the interconnectedness of the world. The person eventually exclaimed how “I feel I am tripping right now”. This is what you get when you let me connect the dots from the most practical consideration to the greatest abstractions. I probably never felt the need to do psychedelics because I am like Obelix: I fell in the cauldron of Kykeon as a child, so I have that perspective built into me ever since.

I do not do psychedelics because I have taken a different path to the same destination. Whether by your own means or assisted by substances, you cannot go elsewhere. You will travel far or dig deep to ultimately discover what children experience as immanent spirit and inexhaustible wonder. Your adventure is the discovery of self through others, else the initial overcoming of self through its dissolution into the communion of selves, which becomes the aggrandising of self. In the process, you might realise that even inanimate objects have something to tell you. Hit a piece of wood and you quickly realise it is endowed with musicality: it is not just the birds that sing.

When I publish something, I am effectively recognising as well as seeking the others. The article is a note in a bottle that I toss to the waves. I will probably never talk to the recipient of this message, let alone meet them face-to-face, yet I still want to tell them that I too was there to experience companionship in solitude and loneliness in company, and that no matter where you go you tread beaten paths.

Organising physical artefacts - James' Coffee Blog

2026-08-23T00:00:00.000Z

I love admiring spaces and thinking about how they work but, when it comes to the physical spaces I use most or every day – my bedroom, my desk, my bookshelves – I haven’t spent as much time thinking about decoration. When an environment functions, I don’t often think about how I can make it beautiful. Indeed, I have never been particularly adept at decorating.

This evening I had a discussion about organising mementos from trips: museum maps and guidebooks, and all the other little things I have picked up that I don’t already keep in my scrapbook. I have a paper bag from the British Museum in which I keep my museum maps and other paraphernalia, but it isn’t particularly organised; indeed, despite being red, I seldom look through the bag.

This has me thinking about how I can keep some of my physical collectibles – zines, museum maps, clippings, and everything in between – more organised. I made a few immediate choices: to get a letter rack for my zines, to get a new scrapbook because my current one is full. But I would like to do more.

As I said to my friends, somewhat inelegantly but spoken from the heart: “I don’t want to keep all these memories in a bag.” One suggestion was to get a pinboard, which I love. I may also look through my museum maps and order them, so that at least I can remember what I have so I can decide what to do next. I would love for the maps not to be sitting in a paper bag, but to be part of something else. Maybe I could have a space on my bookshelf dedicated to museum maps? (I really need another bookshelf too!)

One thing I love about bookshelves is that all the titles are visible. I can look to my bookshelf and be proud that I have read Moby Dick even though it took a long time, and look at my anime and think about for how many hours and days a particular series has kept me entertained, or to look at my art books and know I can pick one up at any time and look at pictures that will undoubtably make me think. I can recall the memories associated with each book or series. I would like this for physical paraphernalia too. Having shelf space might be just what I need, and a corkboard too.

I love that I can curate bookshelves: by subject, by theme, by space. The more I write the more I realise this is what I want to do with physical paraphernalia too. I also want to move the zines I have made from where they are stored, on a shelf I don’t often look at, onto my main bookshelf, to elevate them in my space because I am proud of making them.

How do you organise physical artefacts you have collected? I would love inspiration! If you have any ideas, please feel free to email me.

email me

Breadth, depth, and personal connection - Protesilaos Stavrou: Master feed with all updates

2026-08-23T00:00:00.000Z

This is an entry from my journal.

I have had several false starts with reading fiction. The stories are interesting, I know, but I never feel invested in them. A friend recently persuaded me to read Anton Chekhov. I though it was time to give it another try with my reading practice and, indeed, I read The lady with the dog. “How was it?”, she asked. “Okay” I responded and then we went on to discuss the story as well as my thoughts about relevant issues.

That experiment did not last long. Fiction bores me, as do virtually all books. It reminded me how I do not easily connect with people at the emotional level, which sounds odd to those who have seen me in action. I am sociable, can talk with anyone, will speak in front of an audience even without a script, am able to do people-oriented jobs, tell jokes, am easygoing and do not take offence, am aware of sensitivities and boundaries, have emotional intelligence, and, generally, show strong social skills. Still, I take a very long time to grow attached to anyone.

I have a propensity to go in depth with everything I enjoy: I give it my undivided attention. This is why, for example, I reached a high level of competence with Emacs even though I have no background in programming or neighbouring fields. This “digger” behaviour has a great cost though: I cannot cover a lot of ground at the same time, the way a “scrapper” would. Concretely, I want to understand a person well, which I cannot do with everyone I encounter due to time/energy constraints.

This is why, perhaps paradoxically, I remain at the surface of the emotional connection with practically everyone that does not actively try to reach out to me. Those who keep returning I naturally notice more and begin to appreciate. It also is why I have learnt to tame my curiosity. When I am introduced to a new concept, I do not try to quickly inform myself about it. Never! Instead, I ignore it, promising myself to only pay attention to it if life unfolds in such a way that knowledge of it is pertinent to my activities. A relevant example is with AI: I do not use myself and do not follow the news about its technicalities. This is not because I have an ideological predisposition against it. No! I simply do not indulge my curiosity.

As a kid in primary school, there was a stationery shop from where I would buy what was needed for my homework. I always went there by myself. My parents trusted me as I was responsible even as a child. At some point, the shop owner told my father that “your son knows exactly what he wants”. I learnt this anecdote many years later and was not surprised with myself. The owner tried to get me interested in all sorts of products, such as that colourful pen and this slightly thicker drawing pad. He did not manage to sell me anything I was not already decided on. This is the same digger trait in action: I picked something, went in depth, and thus knew I had no need for anything else to achieve what I was committed to.

Put differently, I am very conservative about who or what I focus on. Once I make a choice, I stick with it indefinitely and am unequivocal about it. When I lived in Brussels, there was this hairdresser I visited the first time and continued to visit even after I had relocated to the other side of town.

For another example that covers my publications, I started my website in 2011. I keep writing long-form articles as if this is the first time I am doing it. My passion remains the same. It is not enthusiasm, however, as that is short-lived. Mine is inexhaustible zest that comes from the depths of the earth, like a fountain. I write so much yet feel as fresh as ever, like I have not even started.

In English we use the expression “falling in love” to describe the exciting kind of romantic connection. The equivalent Greek concept is erotas (έρωτας), which is distinct from what I would describe as “growing in love”: that is agape (αγάπη). We also say “love at first sight” to speak of erotas. My experience has never been of this sort. Whatever I love is the result of repeated exposure to it; love at the 1000th sight, if you will.

There are many kinds of mind, informed by the uniqueness of each person’s experiences, to produce an incredible diversity among people. My mind does not attach to specificities by default, though it can to great effect. Ordinarily, it shifts towards patterns. When I converse with someone, I discern in them something that is not specific to their person. Same idea for landscapes. I do not merely observe, say, a mountain range but identify in it a scheme of shape, of colour, of rhythm.

This is why I am a philosopher, after all, but also why I have a way of thinking that draws linkages between fields of endeavour that have no obvious connections: I do not fixate on one detail and there is no box that can contain me. That may be described as my artistic side. And I am an artist literally, anyway, given all the poems I write. Though art is as diverse as the people who make it: I am not the flamboyant or virtuoso type.

I could probably do painting and music as well, maybe even at a high level, though these require special practice with the hands. My dexterity is not as finely developed and I do not have enough time to do that as well as what I am already invested in. What is nimble is my thinking faculty, which I continue to improve. Words are my pigments. Meanings form the palette I rely on. I blend them with ease and arrange them into structures that form sentences, which grow into paragraphs that become essays, with a coherent message from start to end, and a shared psyche from one entry to the next. My writings are clear and orderly as a reflection of my inner world.

A professor of mine once told me while we were taking a break from class: “you have a lot of common sense, which is not common”. This describes my brain. My personality, part biology and part second nature that I cultivated, complements it. As I do not commit on a whimsy, I neither get excited nor frustrated, and am very patient as a result, which helps me think things through.

Coming back to fiction, I do not read it because I am aware that I will not fall in love with any of the characters. The kind of reading I do is thus of the impersonal kind, such as on politics, which I also tend to study with the goal of identifying patterns that extend beyond the individuals involved. Opinion pieces I publish will therefore have the quality of commenting on what is yet to be or what is beyond the specifics of the case I am concerned with.

What I do is not special and has no advantages in the grand scheme of things. The world is consistent throughout. No matter where you stand, you witness a singular reality. There is no elsewhere. No outside or inside. No before or after. It is here and there and everywhere the one in the many, the many in the one. If you do not experience as much, it is due to the dizziness you get when you look around without seeing, when you hear without listening.

Cosmic consistency means that the digger and the scrapper are fundamentally exposed to the same experience. I understand one thing so deeply that I can find in it patterns which are present in every other thing. It is thus the same as me touring around the cosmos, while staying at the hut.

The most personal connection is in essence impersonal. Whatever its quality, it cannot be specific to it as it too is an instance of personal connection as such. On the flip-side, the impersonal becomes personal once understood, for it forms part of a connection. And the most profound understanding is the strongest connection which is the most personal one.

Even if you take an irreplaceable relationship, such as with your mother, she is at once the embodiment of a specific person and mothehood in general. In her you identify the general and the particular as an expression of oneness: the mother you have and all possible mothers at once.

This is how the world is. You search for something far away only to realise it was always right in front of you. You keep seeking something and once you acquire it you understand that you never needed it.