Convention and Protocol Relating to the Status of Refugees

The Refugee Convention entered into force on 22 April 1954.

In the above text, we look at the word particularly. We note that it does not mean exclusively. Even if the head of the family (which we should consider an outdated term, but can still understand) has not fulfilled the necessary conditions for admission to a particular country, the Convention “recommends” governments to take the necessary measures.

But what are the “necessary measures” if such measures are perceived to conflict with “national safety interests”. And what precisely means “recommends”? The dictionary states “to push for something”.

Listen, this is no match for Trump, the Artist of the Deal. Why is the verb here not “obligate”?

The United Nations now urges the US to stop separating children from their families at the border. According to a spokesperson, “The use of immigration detention and family separation as a deterrent runs counter to human rights standards and principles.” She asks that Washington adopts non-custodial alternatives that allow children to remain with their families. Fair enough.

The human drama is terrifying and I don’t see no political solution soon. Trump supporters, and indeed Trump himself, are quick to blame Democrats for passing the original laws that led to this catastrophy. I am worried that Trump defenders are reluctant to change their opinion and speak up to their peers, fearing to be ostracized. It is easy to get on the Trump Train, but you can not jump off.

A slippery slope and ‘Gazafication’ of the US – Mexico border looms over the current events. What if people approaching the border would be shot at sight (admittedly an unlikely scenario, despite extremist toads who demand so)? I can already hear the propaganda claims: It is the right of the US to defend itself. Illegal immigrants are criminals. I already see them quoting dubious crime statistics produced by the Cato institute. And I see hordes of American citizens accepting these claims. The ‘fire and fury’ of such violent border protection measures would translate into laudable toughness and a sense of ‘something is finally being done for our safety’, at least in the feeble indoctrinated minds of Trump’s following. Any critique of Trump’s actions will become increasingly harder as it will be dismissed as unpatriotic. This small step tactics has been adopted by other dictators (dixit Fox news) before.

I don’t apologize for the Godwin, if you have perceived one, dear reader.

Convention and Protocol Relating to the Status of Refugees was originally published on Meandering home

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Reading: Pieces of Shadow by Jaime Sabines

Today I found a poem by the Mexican poet Jaime Sabines (1926-1999) in a translation by W.S. Merwin. According to Octavio Paz he was one of the greatest. The original Spanish poem can be found here.

I don’t know it for certain, but I imagine
that a man and a woman
fall in love one day,
little by little they come to be alone,
something in each heart tells them that they are alone,
alone on the earth they enter each other,
they go filling each other.

It all happens in silence. The way
light happens in the eye.
Love unites bodies.
They go on filling each other with silence.

One day they wake up, over their arms.
Then they think they know the whole thing,
They see themselves naked and they know the whole thing.

(I’m not sure about this. I imagine it.)

The first strophe sounds fresh, yet mysterious. Did they come to be alone (‘se van quedando solos’) after they fell in love, realizing that they have to act on their love? And acting they do: they penetrate each other (not just the man penetrating the woman, but reciprocal) and then ‘go filling’ each other. In Spanish it says ‘se van matando’. ‘Matarse’ also means to exhaust oneself, if I’m not mistaken. The ‘filling’ is a creative find but I had to read it thrice before realizing that other meaning: filling as if filling an animal.

So far, it’s a pretty standard description of ferocious love. But it all happens in silence, like the way light happens in the eye. I imagine mute lovemaking. After the superfluous ‘love unites bodies’ the poet repeats the filling. This time, the Spanish original also uses ‘llenarse’. The act of lovemaking must be repeated, lest the silence and the spell of love be broken.

Then they wake up ‘sobre brazos’. Perhaps they have slept on their arms so they have become numb? So they can enact a distance to their naked bodies and ‘know the whole thing’. The added phrase, repeating the opening line, frames the poem quite brilliantly. The I is not a voyeur, but perhaps the other way around: The couple who knows the whole thing also knows that they are imagined by the poet.

Reading: Pieces of Shadow by Jaime Sabines was originally published on Meandering home

June 12. Meet Sergio, the guard.

The morning and me, we have a very short meeting. She decides to leave after half an hour. It’s almost noon. Let’s have breakfast! And then off to the historical center to walk around and take photographs. That center is not big and quite orderly structured; it’s a good idea to explore it on foot. I notice that Parliament, Cathedral and Ruins are very close to each other and imagine they constitute three pillars of Mexico: democracy, religion, and history. It’s too hot to dig in that deeper. The Mexicans know what constitutes them better anyway.

At night, I enter the Centro Cultural de España, where a big guy checks my pockets. That can happen. They are afraid of aggressive angry men carrying a machete under their suits, hidden away behind their neckties. He makes me empty all my pockets and I do it
Oh, how embarrassing. No pal, I am embarrsssing YOU. Cause that’s how embarrassment works.

Cultural Center in Mexico City

The 3D photos in the Centro Cultural make me think about eternal life. Those persons, long dead of course, that appear in the black-and-white pictures blend together to suggest a three dimensional image of a scene, they seem so alive, I mean, it is as if they are really walking there in that crowd, or sitting on that rock. I find it a-m-a-z-i-n-g but my treshold of amazement is very low.

I feel this peculiar type of happiness sitting there on that dusty chair, behind the flower curtain in the guard’s chamber. I’m part of a Play and the Play intensifies life. I laugh. Ssst, be quiet and close the curtain, make sure nobody sees you here, the guard whispers. He is not supposed to hide gringos in his little dark shed, gringos that are a little hopeless because they cannot enter the apartment where they are living due to a broken doorbell, gringos walking up and down the street afraid of being harassed in this dangerous neighbourhood of Mexico DF, gringos punching the metal door anxiously with both fists waking up all the dogs, gringos explaining their awkward situation to the patrouilling police officers that ignore him, gringos yelling and complaining and moaning and shouting and throwing little stones at the first lit window and – what happened? I came back from the party in the Centro Cultural de España – they had put a DJ and loud equipment in the top floor of the building and people danced wildly – at about 1:30am and tried the door but with no avail. So I walked around looking for a public phone that takes coins. The one I find has a coin jammed in it and I start looking for a metal pin or something to remove it with brute force. I don’t find anything. There is a party going on but it seems to be ending and won’t beam me into the safe light of the wee hours. So I speak to the guard behind the blue fence with the thick bars, and he accepts me after a short interrogation. I tell him it’s dangerous to sleep on these streets and asks him if he could just let me sit on his chair for four hours. What’s your job? – I’m a translator. Which languages do you speak? – Dutch, English, German. – Can you repeat your request in Dutch? – Het is gevaarlijk om hier op straat te slapen kan ik niet bij jou zitten. And now in English (our conversation is conduced in Spanish; I’m about as fluent as peanut butter now but we understand each other well)? Okay, pass. I walk through the gate, cross the parking space with the fancy cars and enter his round little chamber.
And so I end up on that chair in the tiny place where the guard of one of the richer people’s buildings was doing his time every night when I didn’t drive his taxi or see his 11 and 1 1/2 year old daughters. Right next to the chair was the sink, right behind it the toilet. I stayed there from 2 till 6am, and we watched the movie “Sin City” on my computer. Sergio is a typical middle-aged multiple job lower class Mexican man. He asks me:
“Do you have pictures on your computer?”
And I show him some photos I took in Portugal. He asks me:
“Do you have pictures of girls in bikinis?”
And I show him some of Ivan’s Argentinian beauties. He asks me:
“Do you have pictures of girls without bikinis?”
And I say no. We change the subject.
“So you’re writing a book?”
-“Yes, more or less”
“You’re going to mention this loco night you spend with the Mexican guard?”
-“Sure I will. Write me down your name and I’ll mention you.”
And here I mention him, Sergio the honest loyal guard.

June 12. Meet Sergio, the guard. was originally published on Meandering home

June 12. Meet Sergio, the guard.

The morning and me, we have a very short meeting. She decides to leave after half an hour. It’s almost noon. Let’s have breakfast! And then off to the historical center to walk around and take photographs. That center is not big and quite orderly structured; it’s a good idea to explore it on foot. I notice that Parliament, Cathedral and Ruins are very close to each other and imagine they constitute three pillars of Mexico: democracy, religion, and history. It’s too hot to dig in that deeper. The Mexicans know what constitutes them better anyway.

At night, I enter the Centro Cultural de España, where a big guy checks my pockets. That can happen. They are afraid of aggressive angry men carrying a machete under their suits, hidden away behind their neckties. He makes me empty all my pockets and I do it
Oh, how embarrassing. No pal, I am embarrsssing YOU. Cause that’s how embarrassment works.

The 3D photos in the Centro Cultural make me think about eternal life. Those persons, long dead of course, that appear in the black-and-white pictures blend together to suggest a three dimensional image of a scene, they seem so alive, I mean, it is as if they are really walking there in that crowd, or sitting on that rock. I find it a-m-a-z-i-n-g but my treshold of amazement is very low.

I feel this peculiar type of happiness sitting there on that dusty chair, behind the flower curtain in the guard’s chamber. I’m part of a Play and the Play intensifies life. I laugh. Ssst, be quiet and close the curtain, make sure nobody sees you here, the guard whispers. He is not supposed to hide gringos in his little dark shed, gringos that are a little hopeless because they cannot enter the apartment where they are living due to a broken doorbell, gringos walking up and down the street afraid of being harassed in this dangerous neighbourhood of Mexico DF, gringos punching the metal door anxiously with both fists waking up all the dogs, gringos explaining their awkward situation to the patrouilling police officers that ignore him, gringos yelling and complaining and moaning and shouting and throwing little stones at the first lit window and – what happened? I came back from the party in the Centro Cultural de España – they had put a DJ and loud equipment in the top floor of the building and people danced wildly – at about 1:30am and tried the door but with no avail. So I walked around looking for a public phone that takes coins. The one I find has a coin jammed in it and I start looking for a metal pin or something to remove it with brute force. I don’t find anything. There is a party going on but it seems to be ending and won’t beam me into the safe light of the wee hours. So I speak to the guard behind the blue fence with the thick bars, and he accepts me after a short interrogation. I tell him it’s dangerous to sleep on these streets and asks him if he could just let me sit on his chair for four hours. What’s your job? – I’m a translator. Which languages do you speak? – Dutch, English, German. – Can you repeat your request in Dutch? – Het is gevaarlijk om hier op straat te slapen kan ik niet bij jou zitten. And now in English (our conversation is conduced in Spanish; I’m about as fluent as peanut butter now but we understand each other well)? Okay, pass. I walk through the gate, cross the parking space with the fancy cars and enter his round little chamber.
And so I end up on that chair in the tiny place where the guard of one of the richer people’s buildings was doing his time every night when I didn’t drive his taxi or see his 11 and 1 1/2 year old daughters. Right next to the chair was the sink, right behind it the toilet. I stayed there from 2 till 6am, and we watched the movie “Sin City” on my computer. Sergio is a typical middle-aged multiple job lower class Mexican man. He asks me:
“Do you have pictures on your computer?”
And I show him some photos I took in Portugal. He asks me:
“Do you have pictures of girls in bikinis?”
And I show him some of Ivan’s Argentinian beauties. He asks me:
“Do you have pictures of girls without bikinis?”
And I say no. We change the subject.
“So you’re writing a book?”
-“Yes, more or less”
“You’re going to mention this loco night you spend with the Mexican guard?”
-“Sure I will. Write me down your name and I’ll mention you.”
And here I mention him, Sergio the honest loyal guard.

June 12. Meet Sergio, the guard.

The morning and me, we have a very short meeting. She decides to leave after half an hour. It’s almost noon. Let’s have breakfast! And then off to the historical center to walk around and take photographs. That center is not big and quite orderly structured; it’s a good idea to explore it on foot. I notice that Parliament, Cathedral and Ruins are very close to each other and imagine they constitute three pillars of Mexico: democracy, religion, and history. It’s too hot to dig in that deeper. The Mexicans know what constitutes them better anyway.

At night, I enter the Centro Cultural de España, where a big guy checks my pockets. That can happen. They are afraid of aggressive angry men carrying a machete under their suits, hidden away behind their neckties. He makes me empty all my pockets and I do it
Oh, how embarrassing. No pal, I am embarrsssing YOU. Cause that’s how embarrassment works.

Cultural Center in Mexico City

The 3D photos in the Centro Cultural make me think about eternal life. Those persons, long dead of course, that appear in the black-and-white pictures blend together to suggest a three dimensional image of a scene, they seem so alive, I mean, it is as if they are really walking there in that crowd, or sitting on that rock. I find it a-m-a-z-i-n-g but my treshold of amazement is very low.

I feel this peculiar type of happiness sitting there on that dusty chair, behind the flower curtain in the guard’s chamber. I’m part of a Play and the Play intensifies life. I laugh. Ssst, be quiet and close the curtain, make sure nobody sees you here, the guard whispers. He is not supposed to hide gringos in his little dark shed, gringos that are a little hopeless because they cannot enter the apartment where they are living due to a broken doorbell, gringos walking up and down the street afraid of being harassed in this dangerous neighbourhood of Mexico DF, gringos punching the metal door anxiously with both fists waking up all the dogs, gringos explaining their awkward situation to the patrouilling police officers that ignore him, gringos yelling and complaining and moaning and shouting and throwing little stones at the first lit window and – what happened? I came back from the party in the Centro Cultural de España – they had put a DJ and loud equipment in the top floor of the building and people danced wildly – at about 1:30am and tried the door but with no avail. So I walked around looking for a public phone that takes coins. The one I find has a coin jammed in it and I start looking for a metal pin or something to remove it with brute force. I don’t find anything. There is a party going on but it seems to be ending and won’t beam me into the safe light of the wee hours. So I speak to the guard behind the blue fence with the thick bars, and he accepts me after a short interrogation. I tell him it’s dangerous to sleep on these streets and asks him if he could just let me sit on his chair for four hours. What’s your job? – I’m a translator. Which languages do you speak? – Dutch, English, German. – Can you repeat your request in Dutch? – Het is gevaarlijk om hier op straat te slapen kan ik niet bij jou zitten. And now in English (our conversation is conduced in Spanish; I’m about as fluent as peanut butter now but we understand each other well)? Okay, pass. I walk through the gate, cross the parking space with the fancy cars and enter his round little chamber.
And so I end up on that chair in the tiny place where the guard of one of the richer people’s buildings was doing his time every night when I didn’t drive his taxi or see his 11 and 1 1/2 year old daughters. Right next to the chair was the sink, right behind it the toilet. I stayed there from 2 till 6am, and we watched the movie “Sin City” on my computer. Sergio is a typical middle-aged multiple job lower class Mexican man. He asks me:
“Do you have pictures on your computer?”
And I show him some photos I took in Portugal. He asks me:
“Do you have pictures of girls in bikinis?”
And I show him some of Ivan’s Argentinian beauties. He asks me:
“Do you have pictures of girls without bikinis?”
And I say no. We change the subject.
“So you’re writing a book?”
-“Yes, more or less”
“You’re going to mention this loco night you spend with the Mexican guard?”
-“Sure I will. Write me down your name and I’ll mention you.”
And here I mention him, Sergio the honest loyal guard.

June 9. Myriad Intentionality.

The Theory of myriad intentionality. I wrote about this earlier; here I want to be a little bit more precise. But only a little bit. This is not supposed to be a philosophical tractatus and I am not supposed to be a genius to write one. So, then, what is the definition of intentionality? It is definitely some thought: we don’t ascribe it to other animals precisely because we assume they don’t think. Intentionality means we are headed somewhere: it is a thought about the future. But not just any thought about the future will do. We can have phantasies about future civilizations, the end of the world, international sport events in which we don’t participate without having an intention. What we need of course, is active participation in a future event. So, when we think about some event in the future, say walking the beautiful neighbor’s dog, in a way that we imagine our active participation in it, does this always mean we have the intention to, in this case, walk the dog? What if we were just dreaming about doing it? So a final criteria seems to be needed: the belief that our participation in the future event is real. Thus we arrive at:

I. A thought about a future event with active participation and the belief that this is real.

…and of course raised some new questions, as real philosophers should. First of all, what is an event? Any occurence, any movement of atoms so you might? No. The belief that a future event is real implies that it must be something like what we preconceive as an event. And this set of occurences is easily defined: anything that can happen can be described with action verbs. When, and only when, we can formulate an action-verbial expression for it, we are talking about an event. Other occurences cannot be events. Still, that definition seems to be too wide: we describe hot lava streams and water falls, the movement of butterflies and elephants with action verbs, but we can never actively participate in it. Still, I make the case that they are events. Here is why. In case of a delirium, we could believe for example that we can pull like gravity itself. We can develop the intention to pull other objects within our “atmosphere”. Those intentions perfectly comply with (I). So intentions can be directed towards physically impossible events. Also, intentions need not to be exact. Without a where, when, how, and why it is still possible to have the intention to kill the president. The only requirement is a “that”.

II. An event is any occurence that we can describe in terms of action verbs.

…now the notion of belief still has to be clarified. We believe that something is going to happen, for example that we will have lunch in one hour. I have no time to dig much deeper here, so let’s resort to ontology. When we belief that an event is going to happen we treat it like a different ontological category than its alternatives.

III. A belief that a certain event E is going to happen exists when and only when we treat it like a different ontological category than all its alternatives.

These are the preliminaries. I’m sure they can be questioned and I encourage you to do that. Once we have a notion of intentionality, we have to ask how we organize more than one intentionality, since our goal here is to establish a distinction between ‘normal’ intentional behavior and ‘myriad’ intentional behavior. Now it’s straightforward to say that we organize intentions chronologically and causally. We tie them together to chains as you might. A simple daily task like
1. go out
2. take a bus
3. buy groceries
4. cook
5. still appetite
is governed by intentions derived from (5) alone. Is there another way? Yes, of course. We could dream, try to follow multiple ‘chains’ at once, intertwine them. There has to be a relation, but one that prevents all intentions to be deducted from one überintention. Total randomness doesn’t work here because that would result in a multiple personality. What we are after is a single personality with a wider intentional structure.
1. go out
2. enjoy the weather
3. buy groceries
Here the events not all causally connected and hence cannot be derived from (3). Still, they are intentions a single person can combine in his thoughts by means of a more abstract overall intention: that of bodily joy. Now the myriad intentionality knows about this and tries to avoid it – yes, that is its dogma. So the myriad intentionalist tries to avoid the possibility of that abstract overall intention. He is not able to do that: that’s his tragic nature, but he is able to postpone it, to stretch the web of intentions as much as possible as it were.
1. go out
2. give to a beggar
3. eat a delicious lunch
4. do a self-invented dance in the park
5. buy groceries
6. feed half of it to the ducks
This ‘chain’ of events is harder to organize in advance. Yet this is what the myriad intentionalist tries to do. Here’s his paradox: in order to broaden the horizon of our intentional behavior he invents a bunch of intentions and then ties them together as tight as possible. This ability to structure them in advance can be trained. The myriad intentionalist invents logical connections between his actions in order to prevent his mind from subsuming them under one abstract imperative. For example:
1. go out
i1. follows from 7 –> imagination of other people’s hunger
2. give money to a beggar
i2. follows from i1 –> reminder of your own hunger
3. eat a delicious lunch
i3. follows from i2 –> the discrepancy i1-i2 spark a crazy act
4. do a self-invented dance in the park
i4. follows from i3 –> discharge leads back to normality
5. buy groceries
i5. follows from i4 –> the discrepancy i3-i4 spark another crazy act
6. feed half of it to the ducks
i6. follows from i5 –> discharge leads back to original intention
7. go home and still appetite

Exercise. Think of random actions (like I want to go to Cuba, I want to scuba dive, I want to climb the Everest, I want to marry in Indonesia). Do free association to find out which series you produce and what relationing principles you use.

I spend the day walking around in the beautiful town of San Christobal, taking pictures, having a good cup of coffee at the beautiful central square. Yesterday night, due to all my nonsense, I almost got lost. I just failed to find the door of my hostel and kept walking for about an hour, examining all the streets in the vicinity of the central square. I asked a few people and reconstructed my earlier walk. Nobody seemed to know about that hostel. Was it dissolved in time or something? I couldn’t believe that. When I insisted, they said “wait a minute, the people next door do lodging”. It turned out to be my hostel! The hosteling sign was taken off the street, and the heavy door tightly locked – nothing reminded of a hostel. I knocked the door and it was opened (very biblical) by the lady I’d seen that afternoon. The anxiety about the disguised hostel entrance escaped my lips only as a dim comment that didn’t pass the counter, I forgave (very biblical) and I went to bed.

At night, in the bus to Mexico City, I speak to a kind lady and dream about myriad intentionality (very unbiblical).

June 9. Myriad Intentionality. was originally published on Meandering home

June 9. Myriad Intentionality.

The Theory of myriad intentionality. I wrote about this earlier; here I want to be a little bit more precise. But only a little bit. This is not supposed to be a philosophical tractatus and I am not supposed to be a genius to write one. So, then, what is the definition of intentionality? It is definitely some thought: we don’t ascribe it to other animals precisely because we assume they don’t think. Intentionality means we are headed somewhere: it is a thought about the future. But not just any thought about the future will do. We can have phantasies about future civilizations, the end of the world, international sport events in which we don’t participate without having an intention. What we need of course, is active participation in a future event. So, when we think about some event in the future, say walking the beautiful neighbor’s dog, in a way that we imagine our active participation in it, does this always mean we have the intention to, in this case, walk the dog? What if we were just dreaming about doing it? So a final criteria seems to be needed: the belief that our participation in the future event is real. Thus we arrive at:

I. A thought about a future event with active participation and the belief that this is real.

…and of course raised some new questions, as real philosophers should. First of all, what is an event? Any occurence, any movement of atoms so you might? No. The belief that a future event is real implies that it must be something like what we preconceive as an event. And this set of occurences is easily defined: anything that can happen can be described with action verbs. When, and only when, we can formulate an action-verbial expression for it, we are talking about an event. Other occurences cannot be events. Still, that definition seems to be too wide: we describe hot lava streams and water falls, the movement of butterflies and elephants with action verbs, but we can never actively participate in it. Still, I make the case that they are events. Here is why. In case of a delirium, we could believe for example that we can pull like gravity itself. We can develop the intention to pull other objects within our “atmosphere”. Those intentions perfectly comply with (I). So intentions can be directed towards physically impossible events. Also, intentions need not to be exact. Without a where, when, how, and why it is still possible to have the intention to kill the president. The only requirement is a “that”.

II. An event is any occurence that we can describe in terms of action verbs.

…now the notion of belief still has to be clarified. We believe that something is going to happen, for example that we will have lunch in one hour. I have no time to dig much deeper here, so let’s resort to ontology. When we belief that an event is going to happen we treat it like a different ontological category than its alternatives.

III. A belief that a certain event E is going to happen exists when and only when we treat it like a different ontological category than all its alternatives.

These are the preliminaries. I’m sure they can be questioned and I encourage you to do that. Once we have a notion of intentionality, we have to ask how we organize more than one intentionality, since our goal here is to establish a distinction between ‘normal’ intentional behavior and ‘myriad’ intentional behavior. Now it’s straightforward to say that we organize intentions chronologically and causally. We tie them together to chains as you might. A simple daily task like
1. go out
2. take a bus
3. buy groceries
4. cook
5. still appetite
is governed by intentions derived from (5) alone. Is there another way? Yes, of course. We could dream, try to follow multiple ‘chains’ at once, intertwine them. There has to be a relation, but one that prevents all intentions to be deducted from one überintention. Total randomness doesn’t work here because that would result in a multiple personality. What we are after is a single personality with a wider intentional structure.
1. go out
2. enjoy the weather
3. buy groceries
Here the events not all causally connected and hence cannot be derived from (3). Still, they are intentions a single person can combine in his thoughts by means of a more abstract overall intention: that of bodily joy. Now the myriad intentionality knows about this and tries to avoid it – yes, that is its dogma. So the myriad intentionalist tries to avoid the possibility of that abstract overall intention. He is not able to do that: that’s his tragic nature, but he is able to postpone it, to stretch the web of intentions as much as possible as it were.
1. go out
2. give to a beggar
3. eat a delicious lunch
4. do a self-invented dance in the park
5. buy groceries
6. feed half of it to the ducks
This ‘chain’ of events is harder to organize in advance. Yet this is what the myriad intentionalist tries to do. Here’s his paradox: in order to broaden the horizon of our intentional behavior he invents a bunch of intentions and then ties them together as tight as possible. This ability to structure them in advance can be trained. The myriad intentionalist invents logical connections between his actions in order to prevent his mind from subsuming them under one abstract imperative. For example:
1. go out
i1. follows from 7 –> imagination of other people’s hunger
2. give money to a beggar
i2. follows from i1 –> reminder of your own hunger
3. eat a delicious lunch
i3. follows from i2 –> the discrepancy i1-i2 spark a crazy act
4. do a self-invented dance in the park
i4. follows from i3 –> discharge leads back to normality
5. buy groceries
i5. follows from i4 –> the discrepancy i3-i4 spark another crazy act
6. feed half of it to the ducks
i6. follows from i5 –> discharge leads back to original intention
7. go home and still appetite

Exercise. Think of random actions (like I want to go to Cuba, I want to scuba dive, I want to climb the Everest, I want to marry in Indonesia). Do free association to find out which series you produce and what relationing principles you use.

I spend the day walking around in the beautiful town of San Christobal, taking pictures, having a good cup of coffee at the beautiful central square. Yesterday night, due to all my nonsense, I almost got lost. I just failed to find the door of my hostel and kept walking for about an hour, examining all the streets in the vicinity of the central square. I asked a few people and reconstructed my earlier walk. Nobody seemed to know about that hostel. Was it dissolved in time or something? I couldn’t believe that. When I insisted, they said “wait a minute, the people next door do lodging”. It turned out to be my hostel! The hosteling sign was taken off the street, and the heavy door tightly locked – nothing reminded of a hostel. I knocked the door and it was opened (very biblical) by the lady I’d seen that afternoon. The anxiety about the disguised hostel entrance escaped my lips only as a dim comment that didn’t pass the counter, I forgave (very biblical) and I went to bed.

At night, in the bus to Mexico City, I speak to a kind lady and dream about myriad intentionality (very unbiblical).