Some of those reading this are perhaps wondering, "Where are your business cards?" Perhaps there are even more who wonder, "What are you talking about? What are you doing with that little knife on that cutting board? Are you a blockhead?"  Certainly my old boss would have wished me the best of luck if he saw what I was up to, writing blogs in Bacchic strains about polished hanjitos. That's why, with Yalda Night just a night away, I felt it appropriate to log the following update, and take the opportunity to add some words of key interest.

Born in North York and living in Mississauga my whole life, here I am now staring down Hurontario St from the corner of my wife's translation office at Burnhamthorpe Rd, in the Golden building known as the Hurontario Corporate Centre. The LRT is under construction. We live in a condo next door and I have seen dozens of new condos go up within a few blocks around me. I remember the words "new normal" were used here to refer to the housing crisis even before the pandemic. Now the people speak of a third world war, when only a few years ago, such utterances would have been made by paranoid personalities only. 

Before being let go almost two years ago, the last thing my manager told me was that he would go to war with any of us. That got me thinking: What the hell was he talking about? I was determined to educate myself about corporate responsibility and what it means to be part of a company. 

Over and over again, I keep coming to the same conclusion: the best way to spend my time is by reading more, and the thing about taking physical care of books is that it is all about chemistry. So the mornings began with Pindar; now they begin with Herodotus and for the afternoon, a little Churchill. Sometimes some French, sometimes a little Japanese, why not? 

The thing with Japan is that there is no litter on the streets. Here it is really different. Here culture means exotic cuisine only, particularly when it's a temporary foreign worker cooking. That's why I have no problem spending many patient hours over my whetstone. I have a strong feeling and I believe in Homer's wisdom. If only those Persian knew with what joy a Hellene run towards danger! If only they knew that to charge beached ships with fire was exactly what they were bred for! Then history would have been very different.

To sum everything up, I prefer to have good international relations. Before cutting into expensive imports, it was necessary to practice on maple first to tone the muscles in my hand. The business of translation easily translates to woodcut design, because it demonstrates a sound interest in the transmission of history and culture. While it is simple, the technique does require dedication and patience, so that the result is a fine boldness because it is just a basic contrast that is difficult to abuse.