It's Tuesday evening in Osaka. Another hot day. Just over 36. No air conditioning downstairs, just a fan. I've taken to throwing glasses of water over the concrete floor in a vaguely artful fashion. I believe that evaporation might somehow cool the ambient temperature. I might be mistaken. But I believe!
Although many thousand miles distant, events in and around Georgia have not escaped my attentions.
Peoples of Abkhazia, Chechnya, Guria, Kartlia, Kakheti, Khevsuri, Mingrelia, Ossetia, Russia, Svaneti, etc, Georgia even. Whoever you are and whatever you want to call yourselves, return to your homes and start getting the grapes in. The harvest is not going to gather itself!
Fuck the plutocrats! Fuck the oligarchs! They don't give a damn for you. Please excuse my proto-Circassian.
Russians bombing the birthplace of Stalin? Wherever you are being encouraged to stand, that alone should make you realise just how stupid and ill-considered this war is. I fear it is going to become a lot more painful before winter returns you to your homes.
Who will make the wine that you drink upon your brother's grave?