Breathe!
But it helps, for a moment, to try to forget. To let the winter sun tickle us. To squint into the blue sky. To breathe. Lugano, January 2026.
The year is over. Chafed raw, we lie in our beds, waiting in panic, rigid and wide-eyed, for what the new year may bring. Our minds are ground down by lies, by wars, by murder and mayhem in Europe, in the Middle East, and the rest of the world.
Truth has long since ceased to be bound to reality. What we read is no longer what was written. Photographs no longer depict reality, but increasingly only the pale algorithm of all-devouring processors.
Countries, governments that until recently seemed to speak the same language have set about smashing the democracies of Europe with pickaxes. The families of fascist dictators are clawing the Gaza Strip for themselves and transforming it into a Mediterranean amusement park. There will be enough dimwits dancing on the ruins of Gaza until dawn, for all eternity.
Russia, which is no longer a country at all but a conglomerate of organised crime, or, as John McCain so aptly put it, a petrol station pretending to be a country — Russia can no longer be stopped. In 2026, Latvia, Lithuania, Estonia, Finland and Poland — that is, we — will have to contend with the utterly unleashed invaders.
Where to look, where to go, what to hope for? Can we keep pretending nothing is happening? Will our lives have to change — drastically, fundamentally?
Theatre? Don't make me laugh!
But it helps, for a moment, to try to forget. To let the winter sun tickle us. To squint into the blue sky. To breathe.
Thank you for your invaluable work, soldiers of freedom!
A healthy 2026, a good, a peaceful new year.
Somehow we'll manage.
That would be something, wouldn't it.
Hey Markus, send me the next Letters from the Studio, too!
Become a Travel Mate
The Desire Lines
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