Michael pulled a chair close to her and sat down; his arms crossed over his chest. He sighed deeply.
Fireworks at the Eiffel Tower, in Paris, France. (source)
I was born on the 1st of January 1901 in Paris. Well…I wasn’t actually “born” … you should rather say that I was made on the 1st of January 1901. I was carved out of wood you see…Pierre, my maker, made puppets….so I guess that’s what I am…a puppet.
I was made from Linden wood. Pierre gave me articulated arms and legs, as well as a smooth sanded face with a broad forehead and hair made from black horsehair. On my face, he painted two large black eyes in which he placed two gold cufflinks to make them shine. Anne-Marie, his wife, made me clothes out of a dark red velvety fabric that came from the cladding of an old armchair. As a finishing touch, Pierre carved me two little clogs for my wooden feet and attached strings to my hands and feet so he could make me move. Continue reading
(Versión original en español)
We were the very embodiment of punctuality—the paradigm, along with our Swiss neighbors, of precision engineering and order. No one in their right mind would have dared to question that distinctly German virtue: the ability to always arrive at the time printed on the schedules and tickets.
Photo by Jonathan Eden-Drummond
But I’m talking about a time those under twenty cannot possibly remember1. That era in which the German railway—indeed, not only the railway but the entire institutional infrastructure of the country—was synonymous with exactitude, now belongs to the past. Today’s young travelers have become used to multiple delays, the kind that make you miss your connecting trains—something utterly unimaginable to previous generations, who would’ve likely attributed such flaws to the Spanish or Italians, never to us. Continue reading
(Read the English version)
Eramos la quintaesencia de la puntualidad, el paradigma, junto con nuestros vecinos suizos, de la relojería y el orden, y a nadie, en su sano juicio, se le habría ocurrido cuestionar esa virtud tan germánica, esa precisión para llegar siempre a la hora indicada en los tableros y billetes.
Photo by Jonathan Eden-Drummond
Pero les estoy hablando de un tiempo que los de menos de veinte años no pueden conocer1. Ese tiempo en que el ferrocarril alemán, pero no sólo el ferrocarril sino toda la infraestructura institucional del país, era sinónimo de exactitud, pertenece ahora al pasado. En la actualidad los jóvenes viajeros se han acostumbrado a las múltiples demoras que los hacen perder conexiones con otros trenes, cosa del todo impensable para las generaciones anteriores que habrían tendido a atribuir tales características a los españoles o italianos, jamás a nosotros. Continue reading
“The names of our AI tools? Ha!” cried George, knocking his head back. “We had our ‘heads-up’ with Hermes and Apollo. So don’t be too shocked! They were all heroes. All about to save the world. Not just with brave acts, of course, but with all the prowess of artificial intelligence! Like ….”
Lucija couldn’t resist interrupting.
“I guess Odysseus was amongst them!” she chipped in, stirred by the images in her mind from her favourite schoolgirl stories.
“Yeah, like, they were all there – Odysseus, Perseus, Jason; and even Bellerophon”, came back George.
“But, of course, the greatest of all stood out – Hercules, the perfect AI tool for all our policy knowledge needs!”
The three of them glanced at each other, giggled, and turned to sip on their coffees.
click on pic
writingbrussels 
