Morning Stories

Nobody really knows when focus was invented. Thousands of legends pass the torch, whispering that it was born somewhere between curiosity and caffeine.

An inkling is, by definition, the state of not knowing — a suspicion at best, supported only by faint traces of evidence. Last night, I was haunted by inklings. Two of them, actually: “I don’t really understand baseball,” and, “I have a feeling the Blue Jays will win.” Both stood in my living room like slices of Swiss cheese — full of holes and hope.

Oops — November is here. The most unloved month of the year, dressed in fifty shades of grey and minor chords. Even its name — No Vember — sounds like a refusal of joy, a month that says no to sunshine, no to cheer, no to colour.

Can you believe it? The barrel — that humble, round invention — is ancient. Its makers were Celtic craftsmen, back in the days when “recycling” meant using the same goat twice. Unfassable, as the Germans would say — unfathomable.

Disputes are the daily seasoning of human existence. Empathy, respect, and humour — those are the better side effects of being Homo sapiens.

The third season of the year has, since the dawn of humankind — and probably a bit before that — been the dull cup among the four outdoor states of being. What, I ask, is not dreary about this ghastly, cold-creeping, fog-drenched time of year?

For four quiet years, the house next door was perfectly peaceful. The elderly couple who lived there were hardly noticeable — except for the occasional chat over the garden fence. No loud parties, no drama, just classical calm. It was bliss.

The old Greek sits on a rock, staring into the waves of the Mediterranean Sea, lost in thought. At least, that’s what his posture suggests — deep reflection, the kind that shouldn’t be interrupted, because once you disturb reflection, it loses its very meaning. As he sits there in his meditative trance, his face suddenly lights up.

Oh yes, they are. People make mistakes. And people are often mad. Those with unusual behaviour or strange ways of thinking are one kind of the mad ones. The other kind are those with a medical condition — people who could, if they wanted to, pick their diagnosis from a vast catalogue of brain malfunctions.

In earlier times, the troll was one of those fascinating figures of Scandinavian folklore. They were often described as large, strong, and not particularly clever, living in remote places such as mountains or forests, and avoiding daylight, which could turn them to stone. Very troll-like creatures indeed.

Storytelling — the art of shaping experience into narrative — has an extraordinarily long lifespan. Before writing and printing existed, storytelling was the only way humans could share knowledge. It’s also one of humanity’s greatest inventions — a gym for the imagination and the mind. Reading or listening to a story remains one of the purest forms of entertainment.

Dystopian narratives about the future of climate change are depressing. Scientists’ scenarios depict a world in chaos, under fire and water, in heat and cold, offering little chance of survival. However, a closer look at the past, i.e., history, reveals that while the scenario is undoubtedly accurate, the chances of survival are greater and more diverse than models suggest.

One of those smoke-filled, gloomy people sitting on barstools in the shadows has always been a magnet for me. People travelling alone or in pairs enjoy themselves at a bar. That’s because there are few barriers to contact with the person next to you on the right or left. Many a conversation would never have taken place without a bar.

Moreover, this is not a single play, but a constant repetition of a bizarre performance. Act One: The parties ( They only have two parties) refuse to compromise. Act Two: All government services are shut down. Act Three: Everyone tries to get the wagon rolling again. The script of this play never changes.

I have never regretted my time as a psychological wastebasket. On the one hand, I got closer to these beauties than many other male contenders, and on the other hand, I learned a lot about the innermost thoughts of people afflicted with beauty.