I may have clicked on one or two of those baits, or a few, or too many. But I’m still waiting for that promised earth-shattering revelation.
Ah, the joys of walking the dog… You get to meet all kinds of folk—like the goddess of love and the god of the sky. Oh and a 100-kg hunk of man-made high-tech science goodness at 933 million km distance.
The cheery image of humanity projected by social media selfies isn’t an attempt to fool us into believing in the contentment myth; it’s how we want to see ourselves.
Sartre famously wrote that “l’enfer, c’est les autres”: hell is other people. But I’d rather suggest that “other people” are both hell and heaven. Strung between community and individuality, the umbilical cord of identity is a tenuous one.
Some quirky math conjures up a time machine of sorts, letting you look at the world through the eyes of someone who may be more like you than you think.
Books are treasure troves of humanity. But what do you do when a damaged gift book comes into your possession—twice?