So, here is the question: why do I really write this blog?
If I write it for myself only, skipping a day or two or three years of entries should not be an issue. Nobody to inconvenience. I obviously do not feel any of my ideas during these days are worth recording. Working late, reading less, whatever.
Why then, I feel a sort of pressure to write “something”, to avoid the equivalent of radio silence, to maintain a sense of presence? The only answer that makes sense to me is that my motivations are not entirely devoid of intellectual exhibitionism. I have a secret hope for an imaginary audience who benefits from the magnificence of my… oh, please…
So I stubbornly refuse to write an entry just for the sake of writing an entry. This is not my blog you are reading. I did not write anything today.
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