The exegesis of words and the history of words as they journey through languages and metamorphose over tens, hundreds, and thousands of years continually fascinates me.

Whilst meandering through spokensanskrit.de in search of translations for a new wonderhive book I am publishing, I came across the Sanskrit word for cloud: Megha. And then another word for cloud: Jalamuc and as I stormed ahead I found another and then another. So far I have identified eleven distinct words in Sanskrit that describe a cloud. A cloud is a cloud is a cloud, but then again it is so much more.

So here follows a cloud of clouds:

There are also six words in Sanskrit to describe an umbrella, but I will save those for a rainy day.

At the age of 42, I have found myself looking back more and more on the moments in my life I truly treasure. Be it a chipmunk at the window on an island at breakfast-time in Canada; gazing up through a oak tree one quiet summer afternoon as a boy; rising early on a sleeper train into New Orleans; watching children playing in a monsoon in the Terai. The older I get, the simpler life becomes and one starts to really reflect upon and appreciate life that much more. That is, once the tempestuosness has lulled. The calm after the storm gives clarity, as it were.

Where the paths take us.

I am not sure where the path will lead me, who does? But I remain light-hearted and open-minded about the future. So far the path has wound itself around the world and in and out of hearts. To take each day as it comes is probably the best advice I ever heard. The second being the words, not everything in life that you enjoy is good for you, and in the same respect, not everything in life that hurts you is necessarily bad for you....

As i walked out one morning to gaze on the Naryangarh river....

Bound by the binding of books I am. The midnight oil burns, the candles ooze wax, and the twin babies cry intermittently in the apartment above. As I set foot on my new found hobby of book-binding, a wonderful sense of purpose trickles down my spine. 'Tis a fine art that, much like life, requires patience, a steady hand, and an attention to detail.

I was first drawn to hand-bound books one rainy day in an English library, when my fingers ran along a shelf of library books and rested against the deep scarlet clothed board of a Black Sparrow pressing.

Stories and tales have a tactile requirement when it comes to being bound. A requirement that even the glossiest of paper-covering paperbacks just can't fulfill. I shall dress these epics and rollicking tales of bravado in the manner to which they are fitting. Once I have learned this lovely craft that is.

The landscape around Berlin is as flat as the line on a ECG monitor gets just before the surgeon turns to the adjutant nurse and says, "time of death 11.52 PM". Bemoaning the flatness of it all and yearning for some blips and peaks on my lifeline, talk moves at midnight to the nearest undulations. The lodger —medical student by day and sardonic Saxon come evening time— mentions having heard a patient in intensive care talking about some dark and menacing cliffs in the North of the Czech Republic. He has heard the rocks are popular with rock-climbers and even geologists. But then rocks usually are. Read more »

Bussing around in Kathmandu....

Nancy Sinatra's Boots Were Made for Walking, but a voyage usually lasts longer than 2 mins. and 23 seconds, seriously. So I travelled and I listened, I listened intently, then I listened some more. The result is a compilation of 10 fantastic albums good enough to grace the soundtrack of any journey. Venture further into sweeping atmospheric soundscapes and righteous tunes for that train-ride through India, that boat-ride to Borneo, that stroll to the laundromat on a rainy Friday night. Read more »

Guest writer, Florian Stenschke interviews the author of the first-ever Internet novel, final interviewer of Yasser Arafat, and scriptwriter of Wim Wender's film Palermo Shooting. Norman Ohler is a writer who has travelled far and wide. His three novels Die Quotenmaschine (The Quote Maschine), Mitte (Centre), and Stadt des Goldes (City of Gold) are set in New York, Berlin, and Johannesburg respectively. They are precious jewels of contemporary German literature. Guest writer Florian Stenschke bounces questions and answers back and forth with Norman Ohler across the digital divide. Read more »

As the author, feeling restless amid the world of Berlin Internet Tätigkeiten, heads to Nepal in search of Gods, a mountain, tigers, golden saris, and dreams of a forgotten future....

Preface & Part 1 Westerner Approaches now released: Let the torrential tale begin....

Pick an island, any island amid the wide blue depths of the Aegean Sea; just make sure it turns sunsets into a spectator sport. Join Paul as he strives at camping in the Cyclades.

For the sake of convenience we will use the island of Mykonos as our sample island. I choose Mykonos because its pamphlet was by far the most enchanting in the shadowy travel store's 20w-spot-lit Greek Island section. According to the colourful propaganda, it is the original location of the Garden of Eden —I think the sequel was filmed on Expensivos, which is close to nearby Boomboommusikonthebeachos. Read more »