We are all travellers here. Destinies, destinations, desiderations and desires may vary but ultimately we all move on. Attempting to go either to or from makes for a full life story. Some are pushed and some push. Most of us live in a mix and move in many directions at the same time, and yet we always exist in the center of our own attention. The outside circumstances may change (and they do) but wherever we are, we are looking out from the inside; the eye of the storm is always calm. Some want to escape and run from, and others to escape but run to. No matter what, it is a solitary affair, where drives and forces we don’t fully understand move us like pieces on a board. To cope, we call it destiny or God or some other higher power. We make ends meet and virtues out of necessities, content that we haven’t been pushed harder or, if we have, content that we still haven’t been pushed over the edge. Occasionally, very rarely, do we find a fellow traveller with whom we can actually travel...

Someone once uttered, ”Freedom ain’t free.” Well… ”Ain’t that the truth!” But which kind of currency do we use to pay for and maintain this most blessed of philosophical concepts? It seems the hard currency implied is more or less always human lives; sacrificed pro or contra freedom. Martyrdom is undoubtedly all the timeless rage these days. Given that this unfortunate behavior of ostracizing the ”others” and then eventually diligently killing them off  (and then with the others bouncing right back and ostracizing their aggressors and killing them in spasms and spurts of Stockholm Syndrome) seems to be on constant repeat, perhaps it’s just best to stay in the shadows and bide the time until this behavior crumbles. But – I’m sad to say to myself – this is a most unlikely scenario. It will never crumble. The people involved are too set in their ways, and they don’t want change; in the same way as we who appreciate our freedoms certainly don’t want to change that around. A clash of...

Being a young man in the mid 1990s was pretty great. If you had logged on to the ”net” via a 14.4 whatever modem that made loud sounds like avant garde music, and if you knew how, you could get an e-mail address from CompuServe that was just a bunch of numbers. And you could have a cellphone with an antenna and a chunky battery that made your ear feel warm and fuzzy. What a strange feeling of hyper-modernity that brought… This feeling only lasted for about a year, because by then the floodgates were already opened, and all the internet-based digi-demons passed through and into our unsuspecting bio-logical minds. Everything was too late in so many ways, and yet you gladly accepted it because so much of the technological progress served you so well in whatever you were up to (in my case, a lot!). It was almost as if someone had conceptualized it all in detail, and now catered to the whims and fancies of the up and coming generation of creatives, as well as of consumers. Everyone was...