Just another day in Nimrod's kingdom.

Τι θα φοράς συνεννόηση
να σε γνωρίσω

ώστε να μη χαθούμε πάλι
μες στους πολυπληθείς σωσίες σου;

Dear Reader,

Quite frankly, I'm surprised to find you here.

Obviously, I realise that the whole point of blogging is to get your voice "out there" and I suppose that that's exactly what I wanted to do when I first created this blog. In my own arrogant, selfish, little way I too wanted to be heard. Only, as you can see, I never actually wrote anything.

Three odd years later, I find myself back here for exactly the opposite reason. What has compelled me to reluctantly (re)commence my foray into the blogosphere is an overwhelming need for a private space of my own, away from the convoluted noise of everyday life. Put quite simply, I enjoy the silence offered by the vast emptiness of cyberspace. Of course you could argue that the internet is probably the noisiest forum of our time, with its incessant chatter and flow of information and every Tom, Dick and Harry unnecessarily vying for our attention. And of course you would be right. But in the same way that the largest and most bustling of cities can feel the loneliest; devoid of an audience, cyberspace can provide a medium of infinite nothingness in which I quite like the thought of screaming at the top of my lungs without getting a reaction. It makes me feel a bit like Midas's barber, recounting my secrets to an empty hole in the ground. What could be more therapeutic than unburdening oneself without facing any consequences?

And what in fact, could be more pointless?...

Because isn't the whole point of expression at its very core the opportunity of sharing? And isn’t that what gives it its curative quality? An outward manifestation of our inner world, in whatever form and irrespective of its covert nature, provides relief precisely because it ceases to solely be part of us and thus, necessarily entails the very real possibility of being engaged with by a third party. The mythological barber’s secret is eventually disseminated by the reeds and the wind. And this was always going to happen from that very first instant that the secret was made "public" by being uttered out loud. Expression is a selfish need that can never truly be confined to the self. And indeed what value would it have if it were?

What I am trying to say, is that I may very much enjoy screaming out here in the wilderness on my own but ultimately, dear reader, none of this would mean anything without (the possibility of) you.

In search of a new dictionary...

New love brings with it a lexicon of words, a book of empty pages to be filled with all the conversations that will take place between the couple. It is a strange dictionary whose journey almost always begins with bashful expectations and then branches out into a myriad of possibilities. Some words (for instance daguerreotype or mitochondrion) will probably never be included within its pages yet there are others, smaller words, words such as love, trust, honesty, commitment that will feature prominently. At first, these appear faintly, they are implied, whispered, tiptoed around, their letters a mere outline on empty white pages. But as time goes by, as love becomes bolder and more vocal, they will be etched deeply and permanently onto the paper. What happens from then on is anyone’s guess but one thing is certain, that with the passage of time the words will become frail and frayed fragments of the love story. Use them unwisely, without thought nor feeling, and they will crumble under the pressure, they will turn to dust and disappear forever. But if you are lucky, if you are prudent, if you carefully wrap the words with tissue paper and hide them between the pages, they will become fragile treasures to be cherished in your old age and passed on to all of us as tiny beacons of hope within the overarching bleakness.