existential angst

I’m the writer. You’re invented – a post about the characters that take over

“Stupid idiot,” I mutter. “You’re killing her!” “Who?” asks hubby, raising his gaze from his chess app. “Rodrigo!” I sigh. “Silly young man. Seriously, he needs to communicate with her.” “He’s what? Nineteen?” hubby asks (see? He pays attention) “What young man at that age knows how to communicate with a woman he’s in love […]

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Who is real? Me or them?

Back in the 17th century, the French philosopher Descartes wrote “Cogito, ergo sum”, which is Latin for “I think, therefore I am.” He did a lot of thinking, this French man – and in particular, I suspect, as he lay on his deathbed in a freezing and unwelcoming Stockholm. His thoughts at the time would

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