Sunday Posts

These days, time is a bit heavy as it is full of reflection, every moment seems to stop before it is over, with a pause almost and a throwback into time I can see but can't get back. My movements, which must follow a routine and crucially, the railway time-table, are laden and almost slow-motion, burdened with the ever-present question of what I could have done. In a way, I am reminded of Katherine Mansfield, like her fly stuck in the ink, forever trying to dry itself and fly again and forever dragged down. But I also feel light, as if in a train. Time is such a carrier, as if I don't have to move on myself but I am being moved into. As days pass and suddenly I know that January, which turned out to be the cruelest month of my life, is almost over, it seems a different age and time that I was thinking of: Suddenly, with a flick of a calendar, what was my day-to-day reality seems like a movie, where I was an observer and which I mistook for reality. I play silly games: Like sayi...

I did not write the blog last few days because I could not. My brother, who was my constant companion for all my life, my partner in business, someone subjected to all my advice and my suggestions, decided to die. I could not write another post without first writing about him. Lest I give the impression, it was not self-inflicted death. It was a combination of illness and depression, as well as his drinking habits and a recent abstinence, not least due to constant advice from our sister, my father and me. But, if retiring to death has any meaning, that was his. I was on the other end of the phone, listening to my tearful father who was all too aware of the inevitable meaning of his collapse long before a medical professional has seen to him. In a way, we all knew: He just gave up and retired into sleep. I have never been so alone. As I said, he was my constant companion. When I started working and my office hours stretched late into evenings, he was the patient chauffeur...