One can love one place or many places, but not
“the Earth”. The same with cultures & Culture,
humans & Humanity. We rootless ones, i suppose,
identify with whatever flotsam we bump up against
--popculture, subculture, well-worn arcana--without
ever grasping the meaning of any whole, that
comes only from having grown up surrounded
by legible relationships.

Improvisation is like a game you make up the
rules of as you go along. Others soon want to join;
& if you persevere, you have made a language.

Sapir Whorf. Can historical consequences be
traced from the fact of there not being a word for
something?

“The wolves were ending their song when, from
the sea, the whales answered it.” --The Starship
and the Canoe, Kenneth Brower (1978)

“...in our hearts we are nothing if not cosmologists,
hanging in a cold cage sifting the ruthless jewels of
existence.” --Dennis Overbye, Lonely Hearts of
the Cosmos (1991)

“To Szalay the physics life was not that much
different from the rock-and-roll life. The dress, the
hours, the hair, the sense of fraternity, the brothers
who knew what and how you played, were common
elements. New ideas had to be taken on the road.
You went from conference to conference to colloquium
singing for your supper, dazzling with your insights,
your sleight of hand with math. You were judged,
as Wheeler said, by your ability to project a thought
with power. You flew all night and ate strange food
with people you’d never met before, but plied the
same integrals, you had the same heroes. Afterward
you jammed with your colleagues.” --ibid

Meanwhile, in Chechnya...

Good news--if you ride a bicycle.