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| That’s my reflection in the left of the window taking the picture. Paris, August 2004 – Place des Victoires |
Since anyone can now start a blog, there really was no excuse for me not to try public writing. But when a blogger posts a writing that nobody reads, has anything actually been written?
From around the
age of twelve, I have written irregularly about all kinds stuff in notebooks
and journals. The stuff written about
includes, among other things, what happened that day, or thoughts and ideas on
a topic that interests me, or ponderings on philosophical questions, or,
sometimes, just plain nonsense. These writings fill a box or two with large and
small folios, some loose leaf sheets, and a few spiral bound notebooks. Over
the years, I occasionally shared my stuff in correspondence with friends, some
of which some of them liked, and the some occasionally urged me to write for a
broader audience.
I have varied interests, and I am cursed with
curiosity, but I often find myself revisiting the worlds of ancient Greece and
Rome, reading and re-reading the literature they produced. I suspect the
writings about my varied interests that I post here will frequently have a
reference or two (or more) to this ancient world.
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