afterword

Finishing the diary took a lot of work, that is completing in a format not consisting of loose notes, but more as a systematic whole. All the material presented here was written on paper with my 0.5 2B pencil, the favorite tool of my life you might say, with which I wrote books, and made drawings, models and portraits, life size. The conversion to a digital format was made using one of my favorite new tools, which converts handwriting to printed text, in an amazing way I must say, better than what I have ever seen in the past. Still, it was a lot of work, it almost felt like a regular job, sitting for days behind the tablet, and then the computer, and to finish in time before dinner, or whathever task was at hand. Once, I started the conversion, I decided to continue, partly because the preceding circumstance, that is a quarrel resulting in a serious conflict, and my mood, in need of action regulated by discipline, and to exercise my skill in writing and complete the full manuscript, not intending to publish it, but with the intention to put it online, in such a way that it could be read, without any potential inflictions on the privacy of the persons involved or referenced. In other words, this work should be taken on an appropriate level of abstraction, displaying conflicts and emotions that might overcome anyone, and as an exercise in writing, that in some sense completes earlier attempts, starting with afragment that I wrote sitting on the marketplace: On the market. I like the offside, being on my own, aside of the group, being close, but not too close, within my control. I hear my name, but it is not meant for me. Remember, don't call me by my name. And, while writing this, my daughters are playing. A nice collection, or should I say a nice re-collection, while my wife is teaching, or, more likely, just finished, taking a break, before returning home to take up her domestic obligations. In the meantime, I hear my name being called, but I know it is not meant for me, but for the market sales man, who just tapped me on the shoulder, to get my attention for the girls, my daughters, who want to take a round on the market.

Although I usually only take notes, with keywords, as illustrated, among others, by my compulsive posting on facebook, I did enjoy the flow of writing, resulting in anothher passage, when I wass sitting on the playground, watching my children: On the playground. The children don't really need me, my wife is teaching, biding my time. Wow, says a mother to her daughter, who is making a fast round on the carrousel. People are people, that is obvious. And I just sit here, practicing my writing skill. Existential, as some would call it. A survival mechanism, I would say, to talk my way out of it. But there is hope, in one word, if you need energy, then eat!

And when the time came there, now almost two years ago, at the start of the pandemic, I decided to give writing an other try, as part of my daily discioline. After some months though, I switched back to online media and made posts with keywords, and at some point images of the clouds and sky, focussing on light and reflections, a poetic approach in it self, but by principle unintelligble, and, in some sense, poetic, covering what in the traditoon of zen is called the dark enigma, and, taking sensitivity for light as a symptom, may also be seen as sign of threatening depression, due to our cave existence as a result of the lockdowns during the pandemic of the last two years.

Be it as it is, the work is finished, although I might later include an addendum of additional fragments. But let it be clear, the fight is not yet finished, and it remains important to avoid giving in to depression, and bringing up the energy to work, exercise and withstand the threats of everyday life, which may become very personal in issues of health and well-being. This sentiment has been given form in another site I created, write & fight, of which the introductory page reads as follows: The metaphor of a fighter is indispensible in coping with issues of life and death. Any weakness in this respect will revenge itself by inflicting physical and mental damage that could have been avoided by a proper fighting attitude! The war goes on, and the warrior will walk his or her way.