Tuesday, 15 January 2013

Cold data, dark thoughts

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Above: watercolour and pen on paper

Everything will be connected. Stupid things like spoons and bins will become intelligent. And data will be at the heart of it. These are the words I catch before falling into a dark, dreamless sleep.
I wake up, or not, depending on the definition of waking up. It’s 1982. I am just about 8 years old. It’s the stone age in my hometown, Kota. There are only a few bicycles around and one of them drops me to my school.
Seasons of mists and mellow fruitfulness.
I remember the words waking me to the world to literature and writing. Since that day and ever since all I wanted was to put words on to paper.
Darkness falls.
It’s 1998. I still don’t have a job. I light up my first cigarette. I get a rush. I blink.
It’s 2003. I step on the airplane for the first time. And once the fears of crashing and ears bursting vanish, I sleep. Peacefully. Tuned to the buzz of the airplane.
2007. Amsterdam. Things have changed. Life seems to have settled down nicely along the canals of the Dam. There’s music in the air. There’s a whisper too. I fail to listen to it, at first. Then it grows louder.
Digital or die.
2013. I am staring at the screen of my mac. It’s hurting cold outside. And dark. My screen lights up the room. I am trying to understand and write HTML, slowly making my way through the online tutorials.
I type in HTML:

Seasons of mists and mellow fruitlessness.


Fruitlessness.
From Kota to coding. It’s been one strange, lonely trip to write an HTML code.

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