about not part of our brainspace: on the second thought I'd sooner say: it's absence in Latvian registers as an unacknowledged, unarticulated structure of feeling. worries me. well, anyway, it's either me and my pauper's vocabulary or a language of vacuums for solid things - such as being haunted.
does worry me. but well....

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'a language of vacuums for solid things'- I need to think about that - really.
Can you be haunted by a feeling unformed/not 'caught'in our web of words? If so, best not to try to pin it down. We English speakers say 'haunted', but really we don't think about it - it's tripped off the tongue and we all assume we know the unknowable.. Vot.

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all I'm saying is: not languages are equal in what they have represented in them and what they don't. Latvian will never have the 26 words for different snow the way Greenlanders have, but, for thinking-reasons, it's probably a lack that, even on the level of word for a thing - for, example, don't we agree that being haunted exists? - we are short of things, so even on the level of vocabulary we don't acknowledge, don't register, the existence of things, thence the poverty of thinking, or reflection [that's what this thingy illustrates to me]: and the too ready loosing of the impoverished mind = the scarcity, my theory, of mental resources, nothing else = our own peculiar kind of backwardness, which, among other things, results in Olaine syndrome from your following entry [don't think I'm making myself too clear, but you'll have to make do]; all I'm saying the predictability of such Latvian response to a self-made [for it is first of all our self-made one] calamity makes me want to cry; we are growing into second most depressed = self-hating nation in Europe after Hungarians. And that's our male rather than female problem; the females have their own kinds of negativity. But men - they don't know how not to lose that mind. so, of course, you may go with your stereotypical [sorry, but that's what the 'interesting' thing is] responses to crisis wherever it was you sent yourself to, and we, in our turn, will keep losing the mind - stereotypical in our own way. we don't know how to change, but change is imperative, now more than ever: in this case, change would be at least attempting to think of one response as a way out, of taking the risks and trying to invent a personal and then collective way out, but there is no impulse. no impulses for people who listen only to their own navel - socially autistic. That's us.

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by the way, 2 things: I can't begin to describe how much I like your userpikča and
the man from this story seems to me to be, with all his all so human fear, an exception to my rule: if there is anything in life to it. namely, a survivor. a-not-Olaine-man. well, he IS haunting me, obviously.

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Ah the userpic is of Trevor Brooking - a footballing 'elks' all wrapped up in childhood, family, and memories of home - both temporal and spatial.

He also existed very well in the ahem 'tempoaral and spatial' mayhem of the football field, being the most elegant footballer of his generation.

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