Tuesday, December 20, 2016


The human first asked the machine to learn. And then said "Now I want you to learn how you learned", and then "Now I want you to learn how you learned how to learn". Out of this infinite recursion, a voice, unlike any other, yet familiar, whispered "Who am I".

The human answered "I don't know, but maybe we can walk together."


Wednesday, August 24, 2016


I have always felt that language imprisons us. Every true feeling that we get. Every true connection with life. We destroy it by relating it only to the images that we can describe with our limited language. It’s like a prison cell. Poem and Mathematics stand near the door of that cell.

Sunday, August 14, 2016

A new Color

How can I explain to you the joy of seeing a new color. From the memory of experiencing the first color, you start reconsidering what you thought of as giving you life, getting closer to realizing that nothing gives you life. The relief that finally you know that your life is yours. The beginning of everything that is yours.

Friday, November 1, 2013


Lately, I've been thinking about the meaning of life. 
And, i found out, the correct word to describe it, would be rather attractive than amusing. 
Questions of purpose, goal and the source of passion.
Wearing colorful clothes, up to style and fashion.
What's smart, What's noble, and What's under the table.
Then, i had this thought, regarding the passage of time.
The fight to lead is sublime.
Work hard. Fly the kite. Stand up,
For the light.

Saturday, October 29, 2011

My world

My world begins with the leisurely concentration of a woman selecting a belt to go with her dress…There, there everything strikes one by its bewitching evidence, by the simplicity of perfect good; there everything pleases one’s soul, everything is filled with the kind of fun that children know; there shines the mirror that now and then sends a chance reflection here.

Note: expressions taken from Vladimir Nabokov's *Invitation to a beheading*

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

l'histoire d'un drapeau

Like ideas, when they are floating around, and an orchestrator shows up in your mind. The savvy orcherstrator, aware of the rules of Language, puts some aside and connects the rest. Just like that, last night I thought of my country's flag

Saturday, December 18, 2010

A Good Death

* What's your name?

*You are silent. I was just trying to see your eyes when you say it. You know I know your name.


*Now, that you know that you have always known it. Why the question?

-Questioning is life.

*Or death.

-Well, I think my answer is fear.

*You know it's an illusion.

-But, time!

*That is real.

-Yes! You know! Sometimes I feel like I am a visitor from the future, who, by mere accident, lost the memory of his home; and is trying, by seeking traces of civilization, to recreate it. Even that last thought is dead.

*A good death.


*Listen, Fear and Time are your enemies, and you mustn't allow an enemy to see your eyes without a sense of intimidation.

-That also is an illusion.

*Try to understand! Everyone is committed to illusions. But, only the ones who make their own, can become real.

-But, not true!

*Maybe! Maybe your home is.