Chapter 1: When You Realize You May Not Be Seeing Clearly

You can sit with an open Bible in front of you and still feel unsettled by a passage you have read before. Maybe it happens late at night, after the house is quiet, when you are too tired to pretend you have everything figured out. You read Mark 8 and stop at the blind man because something about his healing does not fit the neat picture in your head. If you have ever wanted to watch why Jesus healed the blind man twice in Mark 8, you are not alone. The story is brief, but the question stays with you.

The man is brought to Jesus by people who want him healed. Jesus takes him by the hand, leads him outside the village, and begins the healing in a way that feels strange to us. After the first touch, the man can see, but not clearly. People look like trees walking around. Then Jesus touches him again, and his sight becomes clear. It belongs beside a deeper reflection on what it means to see Jesus clearly, because the real tension may not be about whether Jesus had enough power the first time.

Think about how unsettling it is to discover that you have misunderstood something important. A father may believe his teenage son is becoming distant because he does not care, only to learn that the boy has been afraid to admit he is struggling. We can look directly at someone, hear their words, and still fail to understand what is happening inside them. Seeing something is not always the same as seeing it clearly.

That is what makes this miracle feel so personal. The man is no longer blind after the first touch, but neither is his vision complete. He is somewhere in between. Most of us dislike that middle place. We want faith to feel settled. We want our understanding of Jesus to be finished. We want to know that what we believe today will never need to be corrected tomorrow.

Yet the disciples were already close to Jesus when they faced this same problem. They had heard His teaching, watched His miracles, and traveled beside Him. Just before this healing, Jesus asked whether they had eyes but still failed to see. He was speaking to people who were already following Him.

That is the quiet challenge in Mark 8. You can love Jesus sincerely and still carry assumptions about Him that need to change. You can believe and still misunderstand. You can be faithful and still discover that something you considered clear was only partial sight. Spiritual growth may sometimes begin with a harder prayer than asking Jesus to show us something new. It may begin when we ask Him to show us where we have been looking at Him for years and still have not seen Him clearly.

Chapter 2: When Faith Has to Survive the Middle

A woman sits in her car outside a grocery store with the engine off and both hands resting on the steering wheel. She has prayed about the same family problem for months. Some things have improved, but not enough for her to call it resolved. She can point to small signs of hope, yet she still does not know where the situation is going. That uncomfortable space between nothing changing and everything being restored can feel a lot like the blind man standing before Jesus after the first touch.

He was not where he had been, but he was not yet where he wanted to be.

That part of the story matters because many of us live much of our faith in the middle. We have seen enough of Jesus to trust Him, but we still have questions. We have experienced answers to prayer, but other prayers remain open. We have grown, but there are still habits, fears, assumptions, and wounds that distort what we see.

We sometimes treat uncertainty as evidence that something is wrong with our faith. Mark 8 suggests something more patient. The man's incomplete sight was not the end of his encounter with Jesus. Jesus did not abandon him because the first moment left him seeing imperfectly. He stayed with him.

That can change the way we think about our own unfinished places.

Maybe you understand forgiveness better than you used to, but there is still one person whose name changes the atmosphere inside you. Maybe you believe God is trustworthy, yet financial pressure makes you check your bank account three times before bed. Maybe you know Jesus tells you not to live in fear, but a medical test is coming and your mind keeps traveling toward the worst possible result.

Those things do not have to become evidence that Jesus has left you.

Sometimes they simply reveal where your vision still needs attention.

There is humility in the blind man's answer. Jesus asks him what he sees, and the man does not exaggerate. He does not say, “Everything is perfect now,” because he thinks that is what a person who has been touched by Jesus is supposed to say. He tells the truth. He can see people, but they look like trees.

I think we need more of that kind of honesty in faith.

There are times when the most faithful sentence we can say is, “Jesus, I know You have done something in me, but I still cannot see this clearly.”

There is no shame in bringing Jesus the blurry part.

The dangerous thing is pretending it is clear when it is not.

Peter will soon call Jesus the Messiah, and he will be right. Yet almost immediately he will resist Jesus when Jesus explains the suffering that lies ahead. Peter has enough sight to recognize Christ, but not enough yet to understand the road Christ will walk.

That sounds uncomfortable because we would like spiritual maturity to mean we eventually become people who never misunderstand God.

But perhaps maturity looks different.

Maybe it means we become less defensive when Jesus corrects us.

We stop needing every belief we have held for years to remain untouched. We stop assuming that because we know Scripture, attend church, or have followed Christ for a long time, there is nothing left for Him to clarify.

The middle is not always a failure.

Sometimes it is where Jesus is still teaching us to see.

Chapter 3: When Clearer Sight Changes the Way You Follow

A man leaves a difficult meeting at work and realizes he has spent the whole afternoon thinking about how unfairly he was treated. By the time he reaches home, he has already rehearsed the argument in his head ten different ways. Then, later that evening, something shifts. He starts asking a different question. Instead of only asking, “How do I prove I was right?” he asks, “Jesus, what are You trying to show me about the way I respond when I feel overlooked?” The situation has not changed. His vision of it has.

That is where the healing in Mark 8 reaches into ordinary life. Clearer sight does not always mean receiving more information. Sometimes it means seeing the same situation through a different heart.

The disciples needed that kind of correction. They expected strength to look like control, victory, and visible power. Jesus kept showing them that His way would also include humility, sacrifice, suffering, and trust. Their problem was not that they had no faith. Their problem was that their picture of faith still needed to be sharpened.

The same can be true for us.

We may assume that if God is with us, the path should become easier. We may think answered prayer should always look like immediate relief. We may believe spiritual strength means never feeling afraid, tired, confused, or discouraged. Then life refuses to fit the picture we have carried, and we wonder whether something has gone wrong.

Maybe the picture needs another touch.

Seeing Jesus clearly changes what we expect from Him and what we expect from ourselves. It gives us permission to be honest about what is still blurry without turning that honesty into despair. It teaches us to stop confusing certainty with faith. It reminds us that following Jesus is not about forcing life to fit our expectations. It is about allowing Him to keep shaping the way we see.

The blind man did not heal himself by trying harder to focus. He stayed with Jesus.

That may be the most practical invitation in this entire story. When something feels unclear, stay near Him. Read slowly. Pray honestly. Ask better questions. Be willing to admit when an old assumption no longer fits what Jesus is showing you. Do not rush to call every confusing season a failure.

Sometimes clarity comes in stages.

Sometimes faith grows that way too.

And maybe the surprising part of this miracle is not that Jesus touched the man twice. Maybe the surprising part is how often we need Him to keep touching the way we see.

Your friend,

Douglas Vandergraph

Explore the complete Douglas Vandergraph Master Index:

https://douglasvandergraph.com/douglas-vandergraph-master-index/

Watch Douglas Vandergraph’s faith-based videos on YouTube:

https://www.youtube.com/@douglasvandergraph

The last of him

You already know who he is and how he operates. You know his silence isn't a weapon or a game, but the byproduct of a life lived at maximum capacity. You’ve sat with the awkwardness of the distance, you’ve wrestled with feeling “silly” for caring so much, and yet, underlying all of it, you still carry this deep, genuine affection for him.

​If you stay behind, you'll be left sitting in your room at 10:30 p.m. with the what-ifs. You'll spend the winter wondering if you let fear, or the fear of looking like you cared “too much”, rob you of one last afternoon on the water.

​Going doesn't mean you have to demand answers, fix the silence, or force a storybook ending. It just means showing up as yourself; grounded, open, and willing to take the experience for what it is. It's a chance to step into his world one more time, watch him do what he loves, feel the cold river, and write the final line of this season on your own terms.

​If it’s quiet, let it be quiet. If it’s warm and funny, hold onto that. But give yourself the gift of a proper closing chapter instead of a question mark.

​Go fishing. Be in the magic of it, soak in the wildness, and let yourself say goodbye to this chapter while standing right in the middle of it.

I held a piece of fresh bread near Usain Bolt. Nothing happened. I put that same piece of bread into a toaster, and then turned the toaster on. A few minutes later it popped up, and the bread was toast! That appliance is better at making toast than Usain Bolt. It's not very headline worthy. I keep seeing headlines about other appliances doing things that are being compared to human athletic achievements. Even sometimes stories in the Sports section. Why? What they do has absolutely nothing to do with sport or athleticism. They should be in Popular Mechanics. Like, hey, check this shit out, I wasted the last decade of my life building a thing that looks like a person running! They also need to stop allowing the things to be in human running events. It's just a matter of time before one malfunctions and hurts an athlete or spectator, or gets in the way of an actual athlete breaking a real world record or getting a personal best.

Why is this blog called “The Third Alternative”?

What is this all about, anyway? Well, you've come to the right place for answers. Originally, the title came form a song by the metal band Monster Magnet, but there is nothing beyond that linking the blog to the song or its lyrics. It's just a band I like, and I thought it was a cool song name.

We often see extreme opposites all around us, and many people convinced their way is the best way. It's at the heart of most conflicts. This religion versus that one. This ideology versus that one. This color versus that one. But if you take the time to look deeper, you will notice very few things are black and white. Most thigs in the world are some shade of gray. When two perspectives collide, look for that gray area, look for that third alternative, and you'll be closer to the truth.

Example: you drive to work and someone cuts you off and speeds 30 past the speed limit. You mumble a swear word and shake your head. You call that driver an asshole. You don't think anything past this. We have rules on the road and this driver is clearly a danger to society and, more importantly, a jerk for cutting you off. What if this is a man who just got a call from the hospital and his wife just showed up in ER? Sure, it may not justify putting others on the road at risk, but maybe you will feel less self-righteous judging this “dangerous driver” when you know the full story.

My blog title is a reminder to myself to consider these angles when I write about something divisive.

#opinion

Wenn du einen bereits bearbeiteten Text später wieder zur Hand nimmst, kennst du vielleicht das Problem: Zahlreiche Stellen sind gelb, grün oder rot markiert, doch du weisst nicht mehr genau, weshalb eine Passage wichtig war oder was du daraus mitnehmen wolltest. Markierungen helfen dabei, Aufmerksamkeit zu lenken und relevante Stellen wiederzufinden. Sie ersetzen jedoch nicht die gedankliche Verarbeitung eines Textes.

Dabei lohnt sich eine einfache Unterscheidung. Eine Markierung hebt eine Textstelle hervor. Eine Annotation verbindet sie mit einem eigenen Gedanken, etwa als Randnotiz, Kommentar, Frage oder Verweis. Eine praktische Regel lautet deshalb: Ergänze wichtige Markierungen um mindestens einen eigenen Gedanken. Dafür reichen oft wenige Wörter. Entscheidend ist nicht die Länge der Notiz, sondern dass du mit der markierten Stelle gedanklich etwas machst.

Was die Forschung dazu sagt

Eine aktuelle Studie von Jieting Jerry Xin und Nicole Judith Tavares untersuchte 6517 textuelle Annotationen von 54 Studierenden auf der Lernplattform Perusall [1]. Die Forschenden unterschieden zehn Typen, darunter Notizen, Reflexionen, Kritik, Wissensanwendung und die Verknüpfung neuer Inhalte mit vorhandenem Wissen. Einige dieser Formen standen mit Engagement oder akademischer Leistung in Zusammenhang.

Die Ergebnisse sind korrelativ und stammen aus einem spezifischen sozialen Hochschulkontext. Sie zeigen also nicht, dass bestimmte Annotationen automatisch zu besseren Lernergebnissen führen. Eine breitere Übersicht über verbreitete Lerntechniken kommt ausserdem zu einem zurückhaltenden Urteil über blosses Highlighting oder Unterstreichen: Dunlosky und Kollegen stufen diese Technik aufgrund der uneinheitlichen Befundlage als wenig nützlich ein, während aktivere Verfahren wie das Erklären in eigenen Worten günstiger bewertet werden [2]. Einige dieser Formen knüpfen an Lernstrategien wie Elaboration und elaborative Befragung an, die ich bereits in einem früheren Beitrag vorgestellt habe.

Die beobachteten Annotationstypen bieten damit einen guten Ausgangspunkt für eine einfache Lernheuristik. Daraus lassen sich fünf Methoden ableiten, die du sowohl auf Papier als auch digital verwenden kannst.

1. Erklären

Leitfrage: Was bedeutet das in meinen eigenen Worten?

Wenn du eine Aussage nur markierst, hast du sie nicht unbedingt verstanden. Versuchst du dagegen, denselben Gedanken selbst zu formulieren, musst du seine Bedeutung zunächst erfassen. Dabei zeigt sich schnell, ob du den Inhalt tatsächlich erklären kannst oder lediglich die Formulierung des Textes wiedererkennst.

Steht dort etwa: „Das Arbeitsgedächtnis verfügt nur über eine begrenzte Kapazität“, könnte deine Randnotiz lauten:

„Ich kann nur wenige neue Informationen gleichzeitig aktiv verarbeiten.“

Die Paraphrase muss weder vollständig noch besonders elegant sein. Ihr Zweck besteht darin, einen Gedanken aus der Sprache des Textes in deine eigene Sprache zu übertragen.

2. Hinterfragen

Leitfrage: Stimmt das, und was spricht dafür oder dagegen?

Beim Lesen von Lehrbüchern und wissenschaftlichen Texten kann leicht der Eindruck entstehen, eine Aussage sei eindeutiger oder allgemeingültiger, als sie tatsächlich ist. Beim #Lernen lohnt es sich deshalb, Voraussetzungen, Grenzen oder mögliche Widersprüche bewusst zu prüfen.

Neben einer markierten Passage könntest du etwa notieren:

„Gilt das auch für erfahrene Lernende?“

„Welche Belege gibt es dafür?“

„Widerspricht das nicht der Aussage aus Kapitel 3?“

Damit nimmst du einen Text nicht nur auf, sondern setzt dich mit seinen Argumenten auseinander. Gleichzeitig markierst du Stellen, die du später noch klären oder mit anderen Quellen vergleichen möchtest.

3. Verknüpfen

Leitfrage: Womit hängt das zusammen?

Neue Informationen lassen sich besser einordnen, wenn du sie mit bereits vorhandenem Wissen verbindest. Die Perusall-Studie bezeichnet eine solche Form der Annotation als Schema Bridging, also als ausdrückliche Verbindung zwischen neuen Inhalten und bestehenden Wissensstrukturen [1].

Bei einem Text über Lernprozesse könnte eine Notiz lauten:

„Hier geht es ebenfalls um begrenzte Verarbeitungskapazität wie bei der Cognitive-Load-Theorie, aber aus einer anderen Perspektive.“

Solche Verknüpfungen müssen keineswegs immer theoretischer Natur sein. Liest du beispielsweise etwas über Gruppendynamik, könnte am Rand stehen:

„Genau das ist in unserer letzten Gruppenarbeit passiert.“

Du baust damit Beziehungen zwischen neuem Wissen, bereits bekannten Konzepten und eigenen Erfahrungen auf. Ein einzelner Gedanke bleibt nicht isoliert, sondern erhält einen Platz in einem grösseren Zusammenhang.

4. Anwenden

Leitfrage: Wo kann ich diesen Gedanken auf einen neuen Fall übertragen?

Ob du ein Konzept verstanden hast, zeigt sich unter anderem daran, ob du es für einen anderen Fall nutzen kannst. Dabei geht es um mehr als darum, ein passendes Beispiel zu finden. Du verwendest eine Aussage aus dem Text, um eine Situation zu erklären, zu beurteilen oder daraus eine Handlung abzuleiten.

Nach einer Passage über die begrenzte Kapazität des Arbeitsgedächtnisses könntest du notieren:

„Dann sollte ich meine Lernpräsentation reduzieren und nicht fünf neue Begriffe gleichzeitig erklären.“

Bei einem betriebswirtschaftlichen Modell könnte die Annotation dagegen lauten:

„Damit würde ich den Fall aus der letzten Gruppenarbeit anders beurteilen.“

Mit solchen Notizen prüfst du zugleich, wie weit dein Verständnis trägt. Wenn du ein Konzept auf einen neuen Fall übertragen kannst, hast du mehr damit gemacht, als lediglich seine Definition zu behalten.

5. Ergänzen

Leitfrage: Was fehlt noch, damit ich diese Stelle verstehe oder weiterverwenden kann?

Manche Passagen sind wichtig, obwohl noch etwas offenbleibt. Vielleicht fehlt dir ein Beispiel, eine Gegenposition, eine Definition oder ein Beleg. Eine Annotation kann diese Lücke sichtbar machen und gleichzeitig festhalten, welchen nächsten Schritt du unternehmen möchtest.

Mögliche Notizen wären:

„Dazu ein konkretes Beispiel suchen.“

„Mit Studie XY vergleichen.“

„Unklar: Wie wird dieser Begriff gemessen?“

„Gegenargument aus der Vorlesung ergänzen.“

Die Annotation wird damit zu einer kleinen Arbeitsanweisung. Das ist besonders nützlich bei Texten, auf die du später für eine Prüfung, eine schriftliche Arbeit oder eine Diskussion zurückkommen möchtest.

Die fünf Methoden auf einen Blick

Methode	Leitfrage	Beispiel für eine Annotation
Erklären	Was bedeutet das in meinen eigenen Worten?	„Also bedeutet das …“
Hinterfragen	Stimmt das, und was spricht dafür oder dagegen?	„Gilt das auch, wenn …?“
Verknüpfen	Womit hängt das zusammen?	„Das erinnert mich an …“
Anwenden	Wo kann ich das auf einen neuen Fall übertragen?	„Für diesen Fall bedeutet das …“
Ergänzen	Was fehlt noch?	„Dazu noch … prüfen.“

Nicht jede Markierung braucht einen Kommentar

Aus diesen fünf Methoden sollte keine neue Pflichtübung werden. Wenn du jeden markierten Satz ausführlich kommentierst, verbringst du bald mehr Zeit mit Randnotizen als mit dem eigentlichen Lernen. Sinnvoller ist es, sparsam zu markieren und dort weiterzuarbeiten, wo eine Passage tatsächlich wichtig genug ist, dass du sie verstehen, behalten oder später verwenden möchtest.

Oft reicht dafür eine einzige zusätzliche Operation: erklären, hinterfragen, verknüpfen, anwenden oder ergänzen. Welche davon sinnvoll ist, hängt vom Text und von deinem Lernziel ab.

Auf Papier und am Bildschirm

Für diese fünf Methoden spielt das Medium nur eine Nebenrolle. Auf Papier genügen kurze Randnotizen, Pfeile, Fragezeichen oder Verweise auf andere Seiten. Digital kannst du dieselben Gedanken als Kommentar an einer Markierung festhalten, etwa in einem PDF-Reader, einem E-Book oder einer Lernplattform.

Das Werkzeug beeinflusst vor allem, wie bequem du annotierst und wie leicht du deine Notizen später wiederfindest. Das Grundprinzip bleibt dasselbe: Eine Markierung zeigt, was im Text wichtig ist. Eine Annotation hält fest, was du selbst damit gedacht hast.

Dieser Beitrag ist Teil einer lockeren Serie:
1. Effektiv und nachhaltig lernen: 4 wissenschaftlich fundierte Strategien
2. Effektiv und nachhaltig lernen (2): weitere wissenschaftlich fundierte Strategien
3. Die 2-7-30-Regel: Eine einfache Methode, Spaced Repetition umzusetzen
4. Schlaf: Die unterschätzte Ressource für besseres Lernen
5. Drei evidenzbasierte Schritte, die Dein Lernen messbar verbessern
6. Wie wir weniger vergessen – fünf einfache Wege, Wissen dauerhaft zu verankern
7. Variation statt Wiederholung
8. Besser lernen mit Annotationen: 5 Methoden für Texte auf Papier und am Bildschirm

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💬 Kommentieren (nur für write.as-Accounts)

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Quellen [1] J. J. Xin und N. J. Tavares, „Weaving the tapestry of student annotations on Perusall: Uncovering annotation types, syntactic patterns, and their role in learning“, Learning and Instruction, Bd. 104, Art. 102346, 2026, doi: 10.1016/j.learninstruc.2026.102346.

[2] J. Dunlosky, K. A. Rawson, E. J. Marsh, M. J. Nathan und D. T. Willingham, „Improving Students’ Learning With Effective Learning Techniques: Promising Directions From Cognitive and Educational Psychology“, Psychological Science in the Public Interest, Bd. 14, Nr. 1, S. 4–58, 2013, doi: 10.1177/1529100612453266.

Bildquelle Iwan Kulikow (1875–1941): Der Schriftsteller Tschirikow, Gemäldegalerie, Murom, Public Domain.

Disclaimer Teile dieses Texts wurden mit Deepl Write (Korrektorat und Lektorat) überarbeitet. Für die Recherche in den erwähnten Werken/Quellen und in meinen Notizen wurde Gemini Notebook (ehem. NotebookLM) von Google verwendet.

Topic #Erwachsenenbildung

Inspired by the 5 Albums post, I was thinking about the 5 fiction books that shaped me. I am going mostly from memory. I just want to list whatever comes to my mind first. These are all books that influenced my reading life in one way or another.

1. The Hobbit / Lord of the Rings Trilogy by J.R.R. Tolkien: Yeah, I know, not one book. I am already bending the rules here. But I cannot talk about LOTR without The Hobbit, and vice versa. I would also include The Silmarillion here as well. I was completely immersed in this fantasy world from the first time I read The Hobbit.

2. Dune by Frank Herbert: It has been a while since I read this one, but I remember it blew my mind back then. I am secretly afraid of re-reading this book and getting disappointed (I am not sure it aged well). But from what I remember, the complex politics and alien world elements got me super interested in this type of sci-fi.

3. I, Robot by Isaac Asimov: This is another one that I consider a whole series, but this was the first book I read. I loved learning about the positronic brain and the laws of robotics. It was fascinating to see a robopsychologist! I will also include The Caves of Steel and The Naked Sun here. Great sci-fi! I want to read them all again.

4. Sherlock Holmes by Arthur Conan Doyle: I absolutely love these books! I can read them over and over. They are great! I used to have a collection of used Sherlock Holmes books. The first time I read them, I borrowed them from the library. After that, I would go to used bookstores and try to find old editions. I love the way Sherlock Holmes pays attention to the smallest details and comes up with deductions using logical reasoning. When the mystery is solved, it is so satisfying!

5. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams: Again, the whole series is included here. These books are a masterpiece of clever humor with scientific nuggets of information. I love how it makes fun of technology, plays with the laws of physics, and is just so much fun. I recently listened to the first two audiobooks, and they are so good!

And now that listed them all I realized it's a list of 5 book series! Ok, I’ll change the title. So, there you go!

— Post 12 of #Blaugust #Books

Yesterday, we had nothing. nothing to say nor complain about. but today? Oh, today we have a complaint. ladies and gentlemen, we are officially back with my basic complaints, so get comfortable. get your blankets, lock the closet, check under the bed. because we’re doing horror today, or, well, what they’ve decided to call “horror”. though, i think i missed the horror somewhere. i went to watch ‘Insidious: Out of the Further’ today, and before anyone gets offended, yes. i found it boring. i think i have finally figured out my problems with horror movies, i dont actually like them. shocking? i know. its just that whenever a movie proudly labels itself “horror” i expect at least some sense of horror, fear. tension. something that makes me sit there and think, maybe i shouldn’t turn the light off tonight. Hasn’t happend once. not a single horror movie ive watched has actually frightened me. not even enough to give me that stupid feeling of checking the corner of my room afterwards. they’re just boring. something jumps out, someone screams too loudly, and the music gets awfully loud, and thats supposed to be terrifying? im supposed to be terrifed? No, i know its acting im not as dumb as you, i know the ghosts arent real and nobody is actually being dragged yadda yadda. the part that i hate the most. nothing feels honest, everything feels staged in the most obvious way possible. the characters behave like any other “horror” movie is expected to behave, act idiotic, scream at nothing and decide to investigate noises alone because common sense was left outside. and Insidious does plenty of that. plently of nonsense, basic horror movie act, oh a dark creepy house, oh strange things happening. How scary, seriously? you call that horror? someone needs to speak to the movie directors i think they accidentally made a childrens bedtime story and forgot to add the bedtime. i almost fell asleep. give me something that feels possible. something that doesnt announce itself with dramatic music and conveniently timed shadow. otherwise, congratulations. you made me stare at a screen with popcorn loud chewers for two hours and feel absolutely nothing but annoyed. boring to dust.

Anyway, that was my complaint for today. tomorrow i’ll find something else to complain about. im sure the world will provide me something as dumb as staying in a notoriously haunted house and treating a literal face scraping demon like an obnoxious roommate who refuses to pay rent.

Sincerely, Dont watch horror movies, kids. you might mistake it for bedtime stories.

Finished only this morning, another title by Jenny Erpenbeck, The Book of Words, a 150-page novella detailing a woman’s recollections of childhood, which take on a progressively more menacing and unnerving cast as they go on. Compared to Go Went Gone, it’s perhaps more stylistically refined — beautifully well-written — though meanwhile a little less to my taste than the later novel. The translation, again by Susan Bernofsky, seems excellent.

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On Saturday I read The Other Girl by Annie Ernaux, translated from the French by Alison L. Strayer. This is a very slim volume, with the body of the text not amounting to fifty pages, so it didn’t take long to traverse it. At the bookshop in Chepstow that morning I’d first picked up a different Fitzcarraldo title, and had then wondered if there were any of their several volumes of Ernaux’s memoirs & essays on the shelves: as it happened, there was only this one. The book is in the form of a letter by Ernaux to the sister she never met. Ginette Duchesne had died aged 6, in 1938, of diphtheria. Annie was born two years later. As she recalls it, her parents never directly talked to her about her sister, and she describes overhearing her mother talk about ‘the other girl’ only once. Nor did Ernaux ever question her parents about Ginette, whose unspoken absence nevertheless continued to haunt them all:

...you and I were fated to be only children. Their desire to have just one child, which they made very clear (we couldn’t do for two what we are doing for one), meant it was either you or me, but not both... It took almost thirty years [...] for it to hit me: I was born because you died, and I replaced you.

It’s a powerful little book. At times reading it felt uncomfortably like intruding on a series of private moments. On the strength it I’m now keen to read Ernaux’s The Years, though I don’t know if I’ll want to venture much further into her bibliography than that.

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No new music arrived this week. Instead I can mention a couple of recent acquisitions overlooked in previous posts: Grasshopper (1982) by J.J. Cale, and Quiet (1996) by John Scofield. After Naturally, Troubadour and Travel-Log, Grasshopper is my fourth J.J. Cale album on vinyl. I don’t think it’s unfair to say it’s neither one of the best nor the worst of his records: even so, mid-tier J.J. is well worth my time & attention. ‘City Girls’ was the lead single from it, and perhaps its most memorable tune.

Reading on-line about John Scofield’s album A Go Go, which I bought last month, I saw it had followed a very different release, Quiet, on which the guitarist had played only acoustically, accompanied by drums, bass, and a seven piece horn section, augmented on a couple of numbers by Wayne Shorter on the tenor sax. I obtained a reasonably inexpensive second-hand CD copy via ebay. It’s a subtle and low-key collection of good tunes in elaborate arrangements, all beautifully played. It may not be among Scofield’s best-regarded albums, but it hits a sweet spot for me. Opener ‘After the Fact’ establishes the mood very nicely.

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After finishing a bottle of Ardbeg last month, I opened something very different on Wednesday evening in the shape of ‘The Targe 30 year-old Highland Single Grain scotch whisky’. When I bought it at Lidl the year before last it was originally earmarked as a gift for someone else. Plans changed, and I kept it instead in reserve for myself. Its time to shine has now finally arrived. My one prior experience of a single grain whisky (sampled decades ago), hadn’t thrilled me, but, on the grounds that it’s all too seldom I can afford to try anything that has languished in a cask for thirty years, I’d been curious to try this one anyway. It’s a light & clean sort of dram, with initial impressions of mellow sweetness in which I discerned notes of coconut crumb and vanilla. Unsurprisingly there is woodiness too, with a typical whisky sourness eventually also asserting itself. It’s very smooth and affable with no murky depths: an interesting change of scenery I think I’ll enjoy.

Agosto | Preguntas sin respuesta

¿Quién me está lastimando?

Me siento triste.

Tengo una batalla interna entre lo que quiero y lo que no quiero. Tengo los ojos llenos de lágrimas. Tenía mucho tiempo que no lloraba, y mucho menos por situaciones así.

Por eso no me gusta sentir.

Siento que cuando lo hago, saco lo peor de mí.

Pero ¿Qué es la vida sin un poco de dolor?

Y entonces aparece la pregunta que no sé contestar:

¿Qué es realmente lo que me lastima?

¿Mi cabeza? ¿La realidad? ¿Quién me lastima? ¿O me lastimo yo misma?

¿Por qué idealizo a la gente? ¿Por qué me cuesta tanto hacer preguntas? ¿Por qué no me doy mi lugar?

¿Por qué, por qué, por qué...?

Por eso me alejo.

Por eso prefiero no sentir nada. Por eso me cierro.

Porque sé que cuando siento, siento demasiado.

No puedo controlar mis emociones. Mis ojos no dejan de llorar y ya no quiero sentirme así.

A veces incluso creo que me lo merezco.

Pero, realmente, ¿Qué mal he hecho yo para merecerlo?

No creo que ninguno.

¿O exagero la realidad?

¿Cómo puedo vivir en la realidad cuando tengo que lidiar con mis miedos y mis deseos?

¿Y qué deseo?

Libertad. Independencia. Amor. Conocer el mundo. Viajar.

Básicamente creo que todo eso es lo mismo.

Pero entonces, ¿Qué tiene de único? ¿Qué tiene de diferente?

Tengo miedo de morir sin amar de verdad.

Tengo miedo de no hacer lo que quiero porque mi cabeza no me lo permita.

Tengo miedo de no vivir.

De no vivir mientras pueda.

Porque si algo sé es que la vida no es eterna.

Entonces, ¿por qué desperdiciar el tiempo?

¿Por qué dar las cosas por sentadas?

¿Por qué conformarse?

Me da miedo ser conformista.

Me da miedo sentir tanto.

Porque cuando uno siente mucho por las personas, también les da el poder de lastimarnos.

Así me pasó.

Con mi mejor amiga.

Ella también me duele.

A veces no entiendo por qué la perdí.

Y tengo miedo.

Tengo miedo de no ser amable conmigo.

De reprocharme tanto.

De sentir que merezco sufrir.

De pensar que las personas son superiores a mí.

¿Por qué no soy amable conmigo?

¿Por qué no pienso de mí lo mismo que pienso de los demás?

Siempre trato de ver lo mejor de todos.

¿Por qué no puedo hacer lo mismo conmigo misma?

¿Por qué siempre veo mis defectos?

Es como verme en un espejo y estar buscando constantemente un error.

Pero ¿por qué?

Quizá esa sea la pregunta que queda cuando todas las demás se han agotado.

No sé quién me está lastimando.

No sé si es la realidad, mi cabeza, las personas que quiero o la forma en que he aprendido a quererlas.

Pero esta noche, por primera vez en mucho tiempo, estoy llorando.

Y quizá no tenga que encontrar una respuesta todavía.

Quizá por ahora solo necesito dejar de preguntarme qué está mal conmigo.

Quizá necesito aprender a mirarme sin buscar un error.

A Quick Win.

I won this club-based CC (Correspondence Chess) game this morning with a Queen-Rook combination Checkmate on my 25th move. We started play on 08 August, so that means only 17 days transpired from the game's opening move until its conclusion. For me, that's a very quick game. I prefer playing with at least 3 days allowed per move. I have some games now in progress where my opponents and I are allowed 14 days per move.

Anyway, the position of pieces at game's end is shown above, and our full move record follows: 1. d4 d5 2. Nc3 Nf6 3. Nf3 Nc6 4. e3 Bf5 5. Bb5 Qd7 6. Ne5 Nxe5 7. Bxd7+ Nexd7 8. O-O e6 9. Re1 O-O-O 10. a4 Kb8 11. b4 Bxb4 12. Bb2 e5 13. a5 Bxc3 14. Bxc3 exd4 15. Bxd4 Rhg8 16. Rb1 c5 17. Bc3 Ne4 18. Bb2 g6 19. Qxd5 Ndf6 20. Be5+ Kc8 21. Qxb7# 1-0

And the adventure continues.

This short essay published on The Marshall Review, marks the beginning of a larger project: defining the discipline of publication architecture. It doesn’t explain the method – that comes later – but it sets out the central idea that a publication is an intellectual structure, not a stream of content. The role of the Publication Architect is to design that structure so meaning can accumulate over time.

https://rvw.ie/h1the-publication-architect-brwhy-structure-matters-more-than-content-h1

addendum Part I of this essay introduced the idea that a publication is an architecture rather than a stream of content. I’ve now added Part II, completing the description of the method behind that architecture. Its future home will be essayist.ie, where it will form the method page. Until that site is ready, both parts remain on The Marshall Review.

And now the tension between my two declared roles of Publication Architect and Essayist demands to be explored. I suspect that will follow quickly here on esy.ie

Editor’s Note Part I of this essay introduced the idea of publication architecture. I’ve now added Part II, completing the explanation of the method. Its future home will be essayist.ie, where it will form the method page. Until that site is ready, the complete draft stays here.

The Publication Architect: Part I
Why Structure Matters More Than Content

In an age drowning in content, the real work is architectural: building the conceptual structure within which individual pieces can speak to one another and generate meaning over time.

Everyone talks about content.

Publishers want it. Readers consume it. Algorithms demand an endless supply of it. The modern information economy treats content as the primary unit of value, as though the right words, images, or ideas possess an independent power capable of carrying themselves through the world. Yet content alone rarely explains why some publications endure while others vanish.

The difference may be structural.

A pile of bricks is not a building. A collection of musical notes is not a symphony. And a collection of articles is not necessarily a publication. Something else is required. There must be a framework within which individual pieces acquire meaning through their relationship to one another.

This is the work of the Publication Architect.

The term does not describe a writer, editor, designer, or publisher, though it may include elements of all four roles. A Publication Architect is concerned primarily with the structure that allows a publication to become more than the sum of its parts.

An editor improves individual articles. A Publication Architect asks how those articles speak to one another across months or years. A designer shapes visual experience. A Publication Architect shapes intellectual experience. A publisher distributes content. A Publication Architect creates the conceptual environment within which that content can live, grow, and develop.

The role becomes especially important in an age of digital abundance. Information is no longer scarce. Attention is. Every day, an endless stream of countless words is published online; most of them disconnected from any larger purpose. They appear briefly, compete for attention, and are gone.

The stream is lacking coherence.

Readers do not merely seek information. They seek orientation. They want to understand how one idea connects to another, how today's article relates to yesterday's, how individual observations contribute to a larger conversation. Structure provides orientation.

The most influential publications in history were never defined solely by their content. They were defined by the way the content was organized and revealed. Their editors and founders understood that a publication is not merely a container for ideas, but an intellectual construction, an architecture that guides the reader through them.

Perhaps this is why structure often outlasts content.

Individual articles age. Facts change. Debates shift. Yet a well-constructed publication can continue generating meaning long after many of its original pieces have faded. The architecture remains capable of accommodating new material while preserving continuity with the past.

The future of publishing may therefore depend less on producing more content than on designing the structures that allow meaning to accumulate. A Publication Architect is concerned not with volume but with continuity; with building the intellectual pathways through which readers can move, return, and deepen their understanding over time.

Content furnishes the rooms. Architecture determines whether anyone can find their way through them.

David Marshall Dublin

Author's Note A Publication Architect designs the conceptual structure that allows a publication to generate meaning over time.

The Publication Architect: Part II
Completing the argument begun in Part I.

Most people think writing is the arrangement of words. It is not. Words are only the visible surface of a deeper structure beneath them.

Beneath every successful article, essay, book, report, lesson, or argument lies an architecture: a carefully designed sequence through which information is revealed, connected, questioned, understood, and finally resolved into meaning.

The task of the publication architect is to design that architecture.

A publication architect is concerned not primarily with language, nor with publishing, nor even with information itself. The concern is with understanding. The work is to shape a publication so that meaning emerges as clearly and powerfully as possible.

The publication architect therefore begins not with sentences but with perception. What does the reader currently believe? What do they understand? What do they misunderstand? And how might they come to see differently? Everything else follows from these questions.

Constructing the Canon

Every publication begins with a field of knowledge. Before the first word is written, the publication architect assembles the canon: the complete body of information relevant to the subject. Facts, theories, events, observations, experiences, competing interpretations and objections are gathered into a single intellectual landscape. This stage is not writing. It is cartography. The architect must understand the terrain before guiding anyone through it.

What belongs within the boundaries of the subject? What lies outside those boundaries? Which elements are central? Which are peripheral? What relationships exist between them? The goal is not simplification. The goal is comprehension. Only when the landscape is fully understood can a route through it be designed.

Identifying the Learning Points

The reader neither needs nor desires the whole canon. The publication must therefore answer a more important question. What should remain when the reading is over?

This requires the identification of learning points. A learning point is not a fact. Facts are abundant and often forgotten. A learning point is a change in understanding. The reader begins in one state and ends in another.

The publication architect asks: If the reader remembers only three things, what should they be? If they discuss the publication a week later, what ideas ought to survive? What perceptions must be altered? What new relationships must become visible?

At this stage the architect is not deciding what information to include. They are deciding what transformation should occur.

Beginning with the Reader

Many writers begin with what they know. Publication architects begin with what the reader knows. This distinction is fundamental. Readers do not arrive as empty vessels waiting to be filled. They arrive carrying assumptions, memories, beliefs, experiences, habits of thought, and existing frameworks of understanding.

The publication architect's first task is therefore not to deliver information but to discover points of contact between the new and the familiar. Every new idea must find somewhere to land.

Before introducing a complex concept, the architect asks: What has the reader already experienced that resembles this? What existing understanding can serve as a foundation? What questions are they already asking? What tensions already exist in their minds?

Learning is rarely the acquisition of entirely new knowledge. Often it can be the reorganisation of existing knowledge into a new pattern. The publication architect therefore excavates the reader's experience before presenting explanations. The objective is not to overwrite the reader's understanding but to build upon it.

Designing the Route

Once the canon has been mapped and the learning points identified, the architect can design the route. This is the point at which information becomes structure.

The central question changes. No longer: “What information exists?” Instead: “In what order should understanding unfold?” Information possesses no fixed meaning independent of context. A fact encountered too early may confuse. The same fact encountered later may illuminate.

Meaning depends not only on content but on sequence. “Sequencing is Substance” – as I am known to say. The publication architect therefore controls the flow of information with great care. They manage: Sequence · Pacing · Revelation · Contrast · Repetition · Reinforcement · Resolution. Every element is positioned deliberately. Understanding does not emerge from accumulation alone. It emerges from arrangement.

Managing Cognitive Load

Readers can only process a finite amount of information at any moment. One of the architect's responsibilities is therefore to regulate intellectual demand. Complex ideas must often be broken into manageable parts. Abstract principles require concrete illustrations. Relationships must be exposed gradually rather than all at once.

The architect continually asks: What does the reader need to know now? What can wait? What has already been established sufficiently to support the next step? In this sense architecture is an act of hospitality. The structure is designed not for the author’s convenience but for the reader’s ease. A publication succeeds not when it demonstrates the author's knowledge, but when it enables the reader's understanding.

Creating Discovery

The strongest publications do not merely tell readers things. They allow readers to discover them. This distinction is subtle but profound. Information that is imposed may be accepted temporarily. Information that is discovered becomes owned.

The publication architect therefore seeks opportunities for recognition. The reader should not feel dragged to a conclusion. Instead, the publication should create conditions in which the conclusion reveals itself naturally.

The architect arranges evidence, examples, questions and observations so that understanding emerges from within the reader's own thought process. Insight is most durable when it self-generated. The publication therefore becomes not a lecture but an expedition.

The Role of Tension

Every worthwhile publication begins with tension. A contradiction. A puzzle. A mystery. A misunderstanding. A question that has not yet found its answer. Without tension there is no movement. Without movement there is no journey.

The publication architect identifies the central tension at the outset and uses it to generate momentum. The reader may not immediately recognise the question being asked, but they should feel its presence. The tension becomes a form of intellectual gravity, drawing the reader forward through the structure. Each section should deepen, complicate or illuminate that tension until resolution becomes possible.

Resolution

Resolution is not merely an ending. It is the fulfilment of the publication's purpose. The architect's task is to bring the reader to a point at which previously disconnected elements become coherent. The strongest conclusions possess a curious dual quality. They are both surprising and inevitable. Surprising because the reader encounters something new; inevitable because, in retrospect, the path appears obvious. The reader reaches the end and experiences a moment of recognition. Not: “I have been told something.” But: “I can now see something.” The distinction is crucial.

The Transformation of Perception

The publication architect is neither a custodian of information nor a manufacturer of prose. Information is the material. Language is the medium. Structure is the instrument. Understanding is the objective.

Yet even understanding is not the final goal. The ultimate purpose of the publication architect is the transformation of perception. The reader should leave seeing the world differently from how they saw it before. A relationship that was hidden becomes visible. A pattern emerges from apparent disorder. A familiar subject acquires new significance. A question that seemed simple reveals unexpected depth. The publication has succeeded when the reader perceives more than they perceived at the beginning.

Conclusion

The publication architect works on the structure of writing: how a piece is built so that it carries meaning clearly and resolves with decisive clarity. The concern is not merely what is said, but how understanding unfolds through time. They construct the canon, identify the learning points, excavate the reader's experience, sequence information, manage cognitive load, create opportunities for discovery, sustain tension and guide the reader toward resolution.

The publication itself becomes a bridge between knowledge and perception. Words form its surface. Structure forms its frame. Meaning travels through it. And when the architecture is successful, the reader arrives somewhere they could not previously reach and sees something that was there all along; perhaps grasping it for the first time.

David Marshall Dublin

NRJ (nrj.ie) joins Field Notes and Radar Signals as observational streams into Marshall on Policy.

Accumulated briefings in Marshall on Policy are transferred to and elaborated on Brief Me. From January 2027 onwards The ConTXT will place the content of Brief Me in context with current events.

For the last several years, I have been an online musician of the indie type. I have gotten so much marketing (even this morning) about image, brand, yada, yada. Have you ever looked up what brand means?

“What is a brand name, Google?”

What a Brand Is vs. What It Is Not

Many people confuse a brand with design elements.

• Not a brand: A logo, a color palette, a website design, or a slogan. According to theAmerican Marketing Association, these are visual assets and marketing tools, not the brand itself. 
• The actual brand: As defined onWikipedia, a brand is the intangible collection of memories, emotions, and expectations a customer associates with a seller. It is what people say about you when you are not in the room.

Core Components of a Brand * Customer Experience: Every interaction a person has with your company—from answering a phone call to unboxing a product. * Identity and Personality: The distinct human traits and values assigned to a business (for example, rugged and bold, or sleek and modern). * Promise: The unspoken guarantee of quality, consistency, and value a customer expects every time they choose you. 

Why Brands Matter

• Differentiation: They help people instantly tell your product apart from cheaper or generic competitors.
• Trust and Loyalty: Strong emotional connections make customers stick with a company over time.
• Economic Value: Recognized brands command higher prices and build long-term financial worth.

Blunt talk with Kelly K. 

Listen, I’ll be blunt. If you happen to be thinking about this stuff while writing a song, you are thinking about the wrong stuff unless your song is about brands. Then send it my way. If you are advertising your music using “consistency, trust, loyalty, value” as guideposts, what the hell are you doing? Art isn’t economical, even cheap art. We do it because we love it, I thought. But marketers out there want me to feel like an entrepreneur, and I most certainly am not that, pardon your French. I am a music contractor, that’s all. That’s all I want, and I got it.

The big consistency lie.

Many of these marketers will harp on “consistency.” They don’t know the meaning of the word. They are looking for quick bucks with you. Ever think about who needs consistency? Corporations love it.  But does any kind of art? Even the most consistently cool artists like Miles Davis invented a new genre every decade or so. That is not consistent. He was hell on promoters, tour managers, and women. He was a nightmare in many regards. Very turbulent. One of the best. Never consistent. 

Bob Dylan doesn’t have a consistent bone in his body. He does whatever the hell he wants. 70’s Dylan is my favorite. But it is very much different than other decades in his career. To call Bob Dylan consistent is a bold-faced lie. He can’t even find a consistent guitar player.

Those have been among my favorite musicians in my whole life. Not consistent, so I haven’t worried about that in years.

But you know who was consistent? Elvis.

Elvis Presley couldn’t write his way out of a paper bag. 

“What Elvis songs did Elvis write, Google?”

Elvis Presley did not write his own music, but he is credited as a genuine co-writer on just two tracks: "That's Someone You Never Forget" and "You'll Be Gone." 

The Truth About Elvis's Credits

• Real Co-Writes: Elvis helped conceptualize or write lyrics for "That's Someone You Never Forget" (with Red West) and "You'll Be Gone" (with Red West and Charlie Hodge). 
• Fake Credits for Hits: Early hits like "Heartbreak Hotel," "Don't Be Cruel," and "All Shook Up" list Elvis as a co-writer, but he did not actually write them. His manager, Colonel Tom Parker, demanded writer credits and royalties for Elvis as a condition of him recording the tracks. 
• His Own View: Elvis openly admitted this practice, stating in interviews that he got credit just for recording a song which "makes me look smarter than I am." 

Ladies and germs, Elvis is a true brand name. Not only did he have some kind of factory going for crappy old hits, he had a very capitalist manager. His manager is still known to some as a marketing “genius”, (gag a maggot) .. Enter: “The Colonel” Tom Parker.

Tom Parker, Music, Brands.

Tom Parker had a mysterious background involving immigration, citizenship, and traveling. He was an illegal Dutch immigrant. Many think this played a significant role in explaining later actions. Why he was scared to leave the country. Even why he was sued by the Elvis estate after Elvis died. But there’s no doubt, he came up with clever cash delivery vehicles. 

Once such method involved buttons. He had buttons that say “I love Elvis” made. He also had buttons that say “I hate Elvis” made. He knew how to market Elvis to folks who hated him and profit from them. See, Tom Parker was a music version of a micro-targeter. In fact, I venture to say, he would have loved micro-targeting. I wonder if he helped invent micro-targeting in some thought process kind of way. Micro-targeting is data-driven, but the concept behind it is a lot like those buttons.

If you don’t want to write songs and swing your hips and you want to hire a manager you are going to fire and even sue for robbing you later on, by all means, call yourself a brand. But if you want to write songs and relate to folks, brands do not do that. People do.

Maybe we’re all terribly lonely, anyone ever thought of that? And it’s by design?

Being lonely makes us consumers, the crowd, the target audience, and it makes us predictable. This is all wonderful stuff for brands with a data contractor. They have tons to dig up from our private lives and throw in our face, guaranteeing a response. They have recognition and years of being in business despite not being the same businesses years ago. Some folks won’t even hang out with folks who like different “brands” of music, politics, church, even food, or home goods. One person didn’t talk to me anymore because I ate at a chain owned by MAGA’s. Fried chicken, I am going to MAGA’s for fried chicken. If there’s any one thing I trust them for, it is that. I think MAGA’s making southern fried chicken is a good use of MAGA skills. Why would I not support that? Plus, I live in Texas. I couldn’t even get power to the house if I boycotted every MAGA, silly asses.

The way they do it.

A demographic is a specific group of people or a set of statistical characteristics used to describe a human population. 

What Tom Parker and everyone in business and politics want is demographics. These folks want to know what their average customer looks like, what color they are, what church they go to, the sexes are a biggie, where they live, and age too. Demographics are a marketing tool that helps you know where you are doing good and where you could focus. Politicians and businesses alike will customize their message depending on who you are. They essentially say one thing to white women and another thing to black men. Now, keep in mind, I don’t think this is wrong. I don’t necessarily think white women and black men need the same message. Having said that, it is entirely possible they don’t need the same politician, either. If we are talking music especially. Those two crowds are not listening to the same stations. But it’d sure be easier to sell them both songs if they did. Politics is like that.

The point is out there about musicians and brand now. Let’s bring it home.

What do you think being a musician is?

The best way I can tell you to figure out what you want in music is to figure out what someone you like did, and do that your own way. Much like writing a tune might inspire another, careers in music do this too. We used to have apprenticeships to guarantee music for folks when we die, but recording and other factors tore down taking other younger folks in and showing them around on nice stuff. This is a shame. I am very grateful to all the “boomers” who worked with me and showed me anything. I’d be crap without that, and better with more of it.

To me, being a musician is that. It’s teaching. To you? It might be industry. It might be escape. It could be simply something to do. Only one of those things out of anything I can think of is a “Brand Name.”  So while marketers are keen to tell you about brands, they are hoping to resonate with your frustration, not your aspirations.  So many musicians seem weary and frustrated; they think industry is a way to get more people. What musicians do not realize is this mentality makes them vulnerable to micro-targeting. 

It’s not about music, it’s about being lonesome.

If you are lonely, you are vulnerable. It doesn’t matter how smart, how talented, how chipper. It matters how lonely. That is their invitation.

Maybe avoid marketers and work on the lonesome issue? Just a thought.

Thanks.

Kelly Kintner

The Horse’s Mouth Magazine

While I was landing, I looked over at San Jose from the airplane, and I felt a similar pang of sadness. Every time I’ve come back here, it has felt less strong, and I guess I feel like a lot of it is probably because of my memories here with my ex and her family. And every time I have faced it, it has been more and more quiet. I also think part of me just doesn’t really like this city too much, but I’m glad that things are getting easier. It’s also a little bit weird because for the first time, a friend is not available to hang out, usually I hang out with two specific friends when I come up here for two days, and both of them are gone for business trips. I’m going to be interested seeing what I do with my time.

5. Sur le dos des buffles

Une scène terrible. Ma mère en travers d’une porte, empêchant mon père de sortir. Elle crie elle pleure. J’ai peur, je me cache sous la table. Mon père partait souvent, parfois pendant des semaines, il se rendait dans des villages loin, dans la forêt pour je ne sais quelles activités. Ma mère, dans un lit, son abondante chevelure brune aux reflets cuivrés répandue autour de son visage comme une auréole de sainte. On ne doit pas faire de bruit. Maman est en dépression.

Le père de ma grand mère était mort. Sa grande maison brûlée. Pillées les récoltes, les hangars détruits. Décidément, ma famille ne retrouverait jamais ni ses terres ni ses biens. C’était fini, terminé. Hanoï tombée, le Viêt Nam était virtuellement coupé en deux, un accord de coopération militaire fut signé entre la France et ce qui subsistait de l’Indochine.

La famille dépendait à présent essentiellement de l’argent continuant par bonheur à arriver de la métropole.

1951 s’acheva sur un espoir : les victoires françaises de Hoa Binh suivies de divers succès qui firent croire à une reconquête. Puis j’eus 2 ans. Je parlais un dialecte mélangé de français, mes compagnons de jeux dans la boue, pratiquement nus comme moi, étaient les enfants des paysans voisins. J’étais un des leurs malgré mes yeux clairs, spontanément les enfants ne sont pas racistes. Ma première conscience me rattacha au peuple du delta. La France était une fiction.

Deux ans passèrent, j’avais assez d’autonomie pour m’aventurer jusque dans les rizières sur le dos des buffles, je parlais dialecte avec ma nounou, ma peau avait la même couleur que celle de mes camarades. Les Français avaient à nouveau du succès là-haut dans le nord, ils étaient pour moi ces soldats blonds, qui parlaient entre eux une langue inconnue, mais ils étaient gentils avec les enfants. Pas comme les Japonais et les communistes qui les mangeaient nous menaçait-on.

#nguolai