The most significant problem with the writings of Bakunin, Koestler, and Thoreau is that they leave me feeling as though it's just too late.
Far, far too late.
Last updated December 30, 2009
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“As they spoke, the owl flew between the trees with the softness of all silence, dropping past them, then rising, the wings beating quickly, but with no noise of feathers moving as the bird hunted.
"Look at him," the gipsy said in the dark. "Thus should men move."”
Risto Juola, 1975 to 2014
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Last Modified 2014-09-28 16:35:20