Immortality

Sorry to keep you fans waiting for so long, only there’s the teeny matter of my dissertation that needs to be buried in a peat bog by the 12th. Yes, that’s this month. But like an addict to his needle, I return with trembling fingers (No, I shan’t have another Red Bull, thank you very kindly) to post. Ahhh, what shall it be today?? I remember leafing through Kundera again yesterday; I took him with me to Munich, but what with the beer and the beer, he kind of never made an appearance. There’s one very interesting (“Interesting”? Can’t I find a better adjective? One more complementary to the atmosphere of a seasoned surgeon dissecting human nature and spreading its entrails before us yet again?) chapter where he describes the meeting of Germany’s mind Goethe with France’s…. stomach(??) Napoleon (Bonnyparty always reminds me of a stomach. His appetite, and of course his quote “An army marches on its stomach”. Which, though true, nonetheless makes me smile). He speaks of Napoleon issuing ‘sound-bites’ much as a modern politician might, and utters his belief that people posed for photographs long before photographers existed. Or maybe that’s not quite correct how I put it. Not before they existed, but before they were present. Because Kundera writes that a thing exists in its essence long before it comes into being. I wish I could give you the exact words; maybe tomorrow. Au revoir, gringos!

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