The ambulances come and go, loud as fuck, who knows where from and where to, day and night, weekdays and weekends, in meticulously selected random intervals, perfectly timed to disturb everything mundane. A sip of tea. A word. A kiss. Do you really have to, for the sake of a single man, aggressively remind the rest of the Universe of its heat death? Exhausted, I had to leave Boddinstraße, but it didn’t leave me: survivor’s guilt.

That a serious and good philosophical work could be written that would consist entirely of jokes. So can a unserious and bad one. The analysis of on Much attention has been devoted to analyzing articles like if, and, or, it, this, and that. …

A movie is a window or a mirror? Windows open to the outside, mirrors, to the inside. Melancholia doesn’t seem to fit any alternative. It doesn’t automatically give us any insight into ourselves or the outer world. Nevertheless, it seems to produce a powerful effect in the attentive spectator. Why? Soundtrack …