An Ironic Homage to Walter Benjamin, and a Cheerful Eulogy for the Human Pen The New Aura of the Algorithm For most of human history, writing has been the most intimate of acts. Fingers stained with ink. Cigarette ash on the edge of the typewriter. Long nights. Longer silences,…

I wrote this piece back in 2009, in the aftermath of what I can only describe as a silent collapse — the kind that happens not with drama or disaster, but with quiet, daily erosion. At the time, I was a middle-aged father, freshly separated, living abroad, and raising two…

“No,” said the Girl, and there was a familiar note in her voice. Painfully familiar. “No parking!” “Keep off the grass!” “Occupied!” “Oh, come on,” thought the Boy – who by now wasn’t really a boy anymore, but a short-cropped, greying little man. “It was ‘no’ the other day, too,…

Köpenik, Berlin, the beginning of the new century „This isn’t you,” she said in a tremulous voice. „I don’t recognize you like this.” Regaining control, she repeated, „This isn’t you.” He flared up. „You, how do you know who I am? You think you know me so well? After a few…