March 25. Backups.
I have to make backups regularly. Backups are an interesting phenomenon. They can make you feel safe. I mean, right after you made a backup, right after you saved all your work on various usb-sticks, as well as on various servers on different continents so that your work will survive a partial nuclear winter, and ...
March 23.
In Argentina, a coffee Jarrito is a medium-sized cup of coffee. It's as good as it gets. I have written in a café that whole day. I have to sit close to the enchufe, the plug. What is there to say? It is like office work, sitting behind a computer and hitting the keys on ...
March 19.
Daniel works at the Argentinian Correos. He is a very friendly and goodlooking guy. He travels daily between Cordoba and Buenos Aires for three months now. Before, he went to all parts of Argentina - he knows every Correos headquarter in the country. His camionette is accompagnied by a custodia-car to protect him from robbers ...
March 13. Providence.
Friday the thirteenth. I am in a café where the waiter has bloody eyes and under the glass plates of the tables are roasted and unroasted coffee beans. Santiago de Chili is a magnificent city, a metropole with many faces. I've been here for a couple of days now and moved about the center enough ...
March 12. El Café.
Good day, writing. The apartment didn't have an airconditioning but that didn't bother me. I wrote on this very experimental travel writing thing, associating freely words and thoughts I don't believe in. Where did this writing take place? I try to remember. It was a round table in a kitchenette, a glass table you can ...
March 11. Santiago sweet.
I decide to meet someone today I call that person Sara because that's what first comes to my mind. She was not on our overnight bus to Santiago de Chile, I didn't meet her on the streets of this five million metropole with the 02 area code, neither was it the woman that sold me ...
March 11. Santiago sweet.
I decide to meet someone today I call that person Sara because that's what first comes to my mind. She was not on our overnight bus to Santiago de Chile, I didn't meet her on the streets of this five million metropole with the 02 area code, neither was it the woman that sold me ...
march 7.
A puppy walks up to me while I am writing. Her clumsy movements touch me. She puts her nose against the screen of my computer. She is exploring the world and that says it all. I don't need to write another word. Hush. Let's all be silent today.