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,…

A strange thing happened — I woke up yesterday and found the world to be… good. I should say straight away: I hadn’t smoked anything. I simply opened my eyes — outside, a grey and grubby morning — rolled out of bed, scratched myself where one usually scratches in the morning……

Good evening, dear sir – would you permit me the modest pleasure of your company on this grey and rather unpleasant Berlin night? One rarely encounters countrymen here, and if one does, they usually hurry to turn into the nearest side street – most often out of embarrassment…

What awful luck! Just moments ago, the weather had been glorious, but now, as if from nowhere, thick, dark clouds had gathered, swiftly blotting out the sky with an ominous speed. The wind grew stronger and stronger. The trees and bushes in the garden bent and groaned under its…