“All colors made me happy even grey.” Nabokov, Pale Fire
A German carpenter by day working hard to follow a Jewish carpenter, exploring writing as a creative outlet. Passionate about learning through practice and observation.
It’s 4 p.m., and my inbox is a graveyard of emails that feel important but probably aren’t—digital paperweights holding down nothing but my will to live. The world spins on. Whether I reply today or tomorrow won’t matter to anyone, least of all me. Earlier, I take my mother to the doctor. Routine physical, except