Abstract
I always believe myself when I say I’m going out for a walk to catch a breath of fresh air. Honestly, I do not intend that the walk should end where it usually ends up: in the kind of smoke-filled ‘fresh air’ of which I am sure you will not approve. A few glasses of locally fermented wine, the very child of the native soil you called your own, sitting in the open air with a few peasant farmers outside in a simple hostelry with bare scrubbed wooden floors and scrubbed wooden tables — this is more to your taste. Not this post-ontologically overthematised techno-dwelling which stands as a monument to the ‘forgetfulness of being’ and deracinated modern man (for whom beings have been displaced by their symbols and even the symbols of being have become so shop-worn that they no longer symbolise anything) that is my local.KeywordsEvening LightBeech TreeSecondary QualityMagic ThinkingWorld PictureThese keywords were added by machine and not by the authors. This process is experimental and the keywords may be updated as the learning algorithm improves.
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