Letter to my father


You asked me for forgiveness briefly before you died. You were weak and tired and eaten by the cancer by then but it was probably the last day we saw you lucid and still yourself. You cried and I cried and I told you you had nothing to ask forgiveness for. And I meant it.
I’m sorry. I’m so sorry you didn’t get to understand you were good. That there is no sin. I’m sorry we didn’t let you see this.
I’m sorry I didn’t get to know you.
I wish we could have known each other. I think you would like me.

I remember that Summer you decided to show us your favourite movie: Easy Rider.
I remember how you turned to us, embarrassed as if you were a teenager, while the cemetery scene was in full swing, and said something like, “Maybe it has no interest to you. Maybe it’s boring you…”.
Oh man… In that moment I understood you were one of us. One of the searchers. I wanted to shout, “No! It’s perfect. I understand. Let’s just roll a joint, man.” I didn’t. I couldn’t. You wouldn’t, or maybe you would, but I was too cowardly to come out and be me in front of you. Something I learned from you.

There is no blame. There is no forgiveness because there was never any blame. I know this is a strange concept for a protestant to grasp.
I understand your sacrifice. I don’t have children but I understand. That’s a sacrifice I’m not willing to make. I saw yours and how it sucked the life out of you. With Easy Rider I saw it clearer—how we are made the same.
I’m sorry life sucked.

Thank you for choosing us. Thank you for making my life and my sister and brother’s life easy. Thank you for working so many hours. Thank you for figuring out how the world outside worked so you could provide for us. I know it was hard.
Thank you for overcoming your social anxiety and your fear of heights for us. (And G*d knows what else… We do, I’m sure.)

Thank you for my first camera. I will love it forever.
Thank you for my second and third camera. It was how you told me you loved me.
Thank you for insisting on music lessons.
And for teaching us to instinctively know the difference between good and bad sound engineering.

You were a fool. A protestant fool.
I know this because I’m a protestant fool myself. I no longer believe in a man-made god but the protestant is still in me.
I understand.
And I still cry.

In the end I cry for your lost life. The life you gave us.

Thank you. We love you.

My father died

2014-08-05 at 19-36-39



I don’t know how to write this post so you’ll excuse me if the way I write it is lacking. I don’t want to write it, you see. My father is dead.

These photos were taken last Summer, before it got really bad. You can’t see it here but he’d already amputated his right thumb by then. Cancer. Melanoma.

I could say many things, and I might just do that in the future, but today I just wanted to say that he made people smile and that’s the best thing one can ever do.


Sad Spring

To you this might look like an ugly photo because one can see the trash bin at the back of my building but to me it’s the vision I saw last Sunday when we took Tobias to the vet, hoping he would be okay but knowing he was already half gone.
The vet confirmed, his body was shutting down.
Degenerative kidney disease, most probably… We were treating him for kidney failure but by Sunday morning he could no longer stand or walk on his own.

So we took him to the vet, and she was nice, and the room was clean and big, and the sun was shinning in all it’s glory, and the small breeze on the street was warm and smelled of flowers. And when I took him from our home in his box, lying on his favourite wool blanket, down the stairs of the apartment building, I didn’t see the big black trash bin. Just the sun shinning on those pink flowers.

He will be always in our hearts.

Sad Spring

In Memoriam

I read somewhere this one guy saying that he found stupid seeing people cry over Steve Jobs’ death. He said something like ‘people should save their tears for when a person they know dies’.

I disagree. You should mourn the ones you love and Steve Jobs was loved.

Like everyone, I pay for my Apple products. Yet I know what was like to have a PC in 1997, so I can imagine a world without Steve Jobs. It’s a world trapped in a DRM Windows system or in a chaotic and scattered Linux OS. I tried it, I know.

Also, have you ever seen iPod, iPhone or iPad competitors? Yeah…

I love the Trackpad in my laptop. Can’t work without Aperture. Am lost (literally, not figuratively) without the iPhone.

So I cried.
Thank you Steve.