Am home... on account of my mother having fractured her hand... Now the funny part is coming home... When you leave home... your identity is packe din bags and cartons and shelved. When you come home, you find all things .. old and musty... in cartons... and if you open one... ahh the memories they come flooding back... the old newspapers in which you got published, the table tennis rubbers you won tournaments with, the letters, the flowers, the hankerchiefs... the broken pens, the old reports, the fiery ideas, old business plans, the diaries and journals... the penknives, the plaster-of-paris items, the photographs.. Then there is this comp.. A vintage 1999, 733 Mhz Pentium III... converted to a cluster (married to an older computer..sister's.. 1997 Pentium II 350 Mhz).. dual boot, running linux and windows... Ahh this computer.. it made me alivbe... the hacks i did.. the pranks i did... the hours i spent on it.. laboring though linux codes... those beautiful emacs windows... and ...
formulating infinity within zero