Several weeks ago, a mysterious tapping on our balcony glass door in the middle of the night disrupted the otherwise silence of this suburban, rather rural, location. Upon revision, it happened to be a huge hornet. The behavior was most unusual. Not only did it come at night, but always tried to get in through the door. Every day. For at least six weeks. No others came. I had a chance to photograph it while it lay still.

Just yesterday, I went out to the balcony to cut some coriander, a spice I blessedly found fresh, and alive, in this country just last month. I failed to close the door tightly. In its usual visit, the hornet squeezed in and started whirling around the lamps. It wouldn’t leave and, at some point, crawled under the furniture. I tried to stun it, but it always sprang back up. It never attacked. I finally stun it hard enough that it lay still, and took it out of the house.

Today I found that it’s harmless, and that its sting is nothing more than slightly painful. Today, silence is the only reminder that the insect tried to invade my home. In fact, we have invaded theirs. I miss the hornet. I wonder if it will ever come back, or if it even survived. I acted like a foolish human and would not allow it around my child. I tried to get it out, but it was more interested in flying around the lights. It persevered day after day after day, only to find a probable demise after succeeding to penetrate my realm. If I hurt it, I’m sorry.

The king is dead. No, not that king, this one.

Luciano’s fight is over. Never again shall his voice fill our ears and hearts. He has become a legend and shall be heard in the booming of thunder, in the peaceful flowing of a river, in the troat of a pluvian.

Considering that sixty is the new forty, it’s a pity to see someone so young gone.

Farewell. May you find peace.

La commedia è finita!

I was taught that history was constantly in the making and that each one of us was part of it. Sometimes I wish one day someone, generations ahead, would remember me. Perhaps having a child is part of this process. Gone are my childhood dreams of being a scientist, anthropologist or historian. I view legacy today in fully different terms.

Before I keep rambling, I just came upon an interesting project that will announce on 07-07-07 what the new seven wonders of the world are. I made my choice. You can make yours.

A seldom seen scene on the streets of a German State Capital mobilized some 30 policemen and firefighters just a few days after the Fair was over. Uschi, a pregnant Charolais, left behind dumbfounded police officers and firemen as it charged against police trucks. Funny that something so very common in most third-world cities, where cattle is often simply herded on the streets, where revered cows cause monumental traffic jams, or where tortured and provoked herds chase peasants as part of festivals, would leave the more technology-oriented authorities of a country baffled, clueless and grasping for an apparently inexistent solution.

Augusto Pinochet is dead. Unlike many who suffered under his iron fist for decades, he died peacefully in the company of his loved ones.

Despite a turmoil not unlike what Chileans are experiencing right now, I have come to the conclusion that even evil deserves acquittal, as long as there is repentance. But that’s probably my Catholic upbringing talking.

He is dead, and that’s all there is to say.

You can read more about it at BBC News.