Of all the rituals I’ve lost, the one I miss the most is playing a record. Finding it in the shelf, enjoying the cover, getting the vinyl out without fingerprinting it. The awe at the dots in the border of the platter, stopped by the stroboscopic magic; the subtle feeling of pride after expertly placing the needle on the turning record without making a noise…
Bach never sounded as good on CD, let alone on some digital format out of a prosaic computer. Hell, it may not have sounded as good in Saint Thomas..!

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Incluso lo más evidente puede tener una lectura diametralmente diferente a la nuestra: la única “realidad” es que ninguno de nosotros tiene la más remota idea de lo que es “real”. Con nuestros limitados recursos, todo lo que podemos hacer es acercarnos más o menos, y mantenernos receptivos a todas las interpretaciones que difieren de la nuestra, y que podrían contener información válida que nosotros no pudimos (o no supimos) obtener.

T.S. Eliot

“Half the harm that is done in this world is due to people who want to feel important. They don’t mean to do harm; but the harm does not interest them. Or they do not see it, or they justify it because they are absorbed in the endless struggle to think well of themselves.”
- T.S. Eliot

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