Sunday, 31 December 1995

I feel compelled to say something about 1995. I’ll keep it simple and short. It was a year of extremes. Days like Tuesday, 14 March, searching the cold streets of Paris for an apartment where I was supposed to stay over for a few days (or weeks). Ecstasy, and then … uncounted, date-less days. Days filled with fading self-respect, vague dreams, delicate happiness … May all that is good await me in 1996.

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“I know you are sceptical, but […] join in with the ordinary current of life, and it will take you somewhere. Whither, you ask? Have no care on the subject, you will land and take root somewhere yet! Where? I cannot say, I only believe you have yet long to live.”

~ Fyodor Dostoevsky, Crime and Punishment