It is only as I prepare to move between apartments, write a dissertation, and enter the last year of my dissertation that the artificial constructed nature of this reading list seems like a beautiful refuge of kind.
Somewhere in the midst of reading Karl Ove Knausgaard’s Death in the Family, in the section of the party in spring, a deep ache to listen to all the albums that he had put together “written in my own childish capitals on the spines”
While the numbers in Germany become more bizarre (we had three consecutive days of 30000+ covid-19 cases), it was wonderful to be able to host a conference this year. Okay, it was online. But it was truly a pleasure to have listened to the people we invited to the conference and also to have been…
This is officially a new era
This year, I am telling myself, will be different.