reowned voice

content/20260516_dune.md

@@ -11,6 +11,6 @@ I clambered up the dune, the hardened surface layer crumbling underfoot and slow
 
 <!-- more -->
 
-From up there, I could see my parents and █████ at the foot of the bluff, stretched out on their beach sheet, basking in the sun, absorbed in their reading. As always, the whole scene looked almost unreal: the bright blue sky, the turquoise Atlantic stretching endlessly to the horizon, and below, the endless white beach set in stark contrast against the black volcanic landscape. God, how I have always loved this place.
+From up here, I could see my parents and █████ at the foot of the bluff, stretched out on their beach sheet, basking in the sun, absorbed in their reading. As always, the whole scene looked almost unreal: the bright blue sky, the turquoise Atlantic stretching to the horizon, and below, the endless white beach set in stark contrast against the black volcanic landscape. God, how I have always loved this place.
 
-I hit play on my Walkman and let the low-slung trip-hop beat of [Tricky’s "Overcome"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J_r2HZqw06E) lumber into my consciousness, its ghostly string loop drenching me in seductive melancholia. Steeped in indefinable teenage emotions, I took in the whole moment, my mind gently drifting in that liminal space between all the childhood memories tied to this place, the beauty of the here and now, and the endless possibilities of what was still to come. It felt like a timeless moment, both eternal and already slipping away, as if some part of me understood that even something which had once seemed infinite could come to an end: the age of blissful childhood holidays with the family.
+I hit play on my Walkman and let the low-slung trip-hop beat of [Tricky’s "Overcome"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J_r2HZqw06E) lumber into my consciousness, its ghostly string loop drenching me in seductive melancholia. Steeped in indefinable teenage emotions, I took in the whole moment, my mind gently drifting between all the childhood memories tied to this place, the beauty of the here and now, and the endless possibilities of what was still to come. It felt like a timeless moment, both eternal and already slipping away. Some part of me accepted that even something which had once seemed infinite would come to an end: the age of blissful childhood holidays with the family.

content/20260516_flotsam.md

@@ -7,7 +7,7 @@ era: 1990/91
 location: 28.213833449836425, -14.224199803299483
 read_more: Find more →
 
-I focused on scanning the boundary between the warm, anthracite-colored dry sand and the pitch-black wet sand, where seagrass, sticks, plant debris, bird feathers, frayed pieces of rope, and plastic objects of every shape and color formed a meandering line along the beach. I enjoyed finding all kinds of treasures: oddly shaped driftwood or curious objects of unknown origin, always hoping to find a message in a bottle or real pirate loot. The surf here on the west coast of the island was raging loudly and sometimes waves would lap around my feet. I remembered to watch out for the black lumps of washed-up tar that looked like smooth pebbles, because stepping on one barefoot was a nasty surprise.
+I focused on scanning the edge between the warm, anthracite-colored dry sand and the pitch-black wet sand, where seagrass, sticks, plant debris, bird feathers, frayed pieces of rope, and plastic objects of every shape and color formed a meandering line along the beach. I enjoyed finding all kinds of treasures: oddly shaped driftwood or curious objects of unknown origin, always hoping to find a message in a bottle or real pirate loot. The surf here on the west coast of the island was raging loudly and sometimes waves would lap around my feet. I remembered to watch out for the black lumps of washed-up tar that looked like smooth pebbles, because stepping on one barefoot was a nasty surprise.
 
 <!-- more -->
 

content/20260517_farewell.md

@@ -7,7 +7,7 @@ era: 1996
 location: 49.40901367679297, 8.671027857791819
 read_more: Step in →
 
-It was time to board the bus. I was scared and excited at the same time. I gave my mother, father, and █████ each a long hug, then stepped onto the express shuttle that would take me from ██████████ to Frankfurt Airport. I don’t really remember why we decided that taking the bus was a better idea than all of us driving to the airport for a longer goodbye, but at the time it seemed fine. I could hardly believe what lay ahead of me: a ten-month stay as an exchange student in a suburb of Dallas, Texas.
+It was time to board the bus. I was scared and excited at the same time. I gave my mother, father, and █████ each a long hug, then stepped onto the express shuttle that would take me from ██████████ to Frankfurt Airport. I don't really remember why we decided that taking the bus was a better idea than all of us driving to the airport for a longer goodbye, but at the time it seemed fine. I could hardly believe what lay ahead of me: a ten-month stay as an exchange student in a suburb of ██████, Texas, USA.
 
 <!-- more -->
 

content/20260518_fax.md

@@ -7,14 +7,14 @@ era: 1994/95
 location: 49.3827205081448, 8.69198937287534
 read_more: Decipher it →
 
-"This looks like it's for you,” my mom said with a frown and a smile, handing me the sheet of thermal paper. It was a fax with a French sender number in the header and handwritten text in large black Sharpie letters. The text was written in Elder Futhark, the oldest form of the runic alphabet, which was used by Germanic peoples until roughly the 8th century.
+"This looks like it's for you,” my mom said with a frown and a smile, handing me the sheet of thermal paper. It was a fax with a French sender number in the header and handwritten text in large black marker letters. The text was written in Elder Futhark, the oldest form of the runic alphabet, which was used by Germanic peoples until around the 8th century.
 
 <!-- more -->
 
-The fax was from my cousin █████████, who lived in ████████, France. We had always been very close, always inspiring each other with the weirdest ideas and plotting secret plans to take over the world or simply wreak havoc on our families. We shared a nerdy fascination with Scandinavian *black metal* and other niche genres - the more brutal, the better. We were equally fascinated by Satanism and demonology, Nintendo games, manga, fantasy novels, weird cartoons, and of course *Beavis & Butthead*. We usually only saw each other once a year, when our families would meet in ███████ or ████████ during the fall holidays to go hiking and spend time together. The rest of the year, we mostly kept in touch by sending each other arcane faxes. The internet hadn’t been a thing yet.
+The fax was from my cousin █████████, who lived in ████████, France. We had always been very close, always inspiring each other with the weirdest ideas and plotting secret plans to take over the world or simply wreak havoc on our families. We shared a nerdy fascination with Scandinavian *black metal* and other niche genres - the more brutal, the better. We were both good at drawing, fascinated by satanism and demonology, Nintendo games, manga, fantasy novels, weird cartoons, and of course *Beavis & Butthead*. We usually only saw each other once a year, when our families would meet in ███████ or ████████ during the fall holidays to go hiking and spend time together. The rest of the year, we mostly kept in touch by sending each other arcane faxes. The internet hadn't been a thing yet.
 
-Our codenames changed constantly. At one point I was *Blackjack* and he was *Azagthoth*. We obviously worked for a secret agency called ███. Our imaginary boss was *M.A.G.G.O.T.*, and much of our correspondence consisted of planning and briefing each other on secret missions.
+We obviously worked for a secret agency called ███. Our codenames changed constantly. At one point I was *Blackjack* and he was *Azagthoth*. Our imaginary boss was *M.A.G.G.O.T.*, and much of our correspondence consisted of planning and briefing each other on secret missions.
 
-In the beginning, we wrote in English, even though we spoke German with each other in real life, simply because it felt cool. But it wasn't secret enough, and our moms had a reputation for reading our private stuff, so we had to come up with something better. Given our shared niche interests, using Elder Futhark as a parent-proof code was the obvious choice. I'm still not sure what to do with this particular life skill, but to this day I'm fluent in reading and writing runes.
+In the beginning, we wrote in English, even though we spoke German with each other in real life, simply because it felt cool. But it wasn't secret enough, and our moms had a reputation for reading our private stuff, so we had to come up with something better. Given our shared niche interests, Elder Futhark as a parent-proof code was the obvious choice. I'm still not sure what to do with this particular life skill, but to this day I'm fluent in reading and writing runes.
 
 I translated it without thinking. The message turned out to be an urgent operational briefing from ███ headquarters regarding a supervillain named ███. It concluded with strict instructions not to bring the ██████ ████ Nintendo cartridge.

content/pages/about.md

@@ -3,7 +3,7 @@ slug: about
 
 My first attempt at writing some kind of memoir was during my daily train commute to university in the early new millennium. I was 21 and felt ridiculous, having my whole life still ahead of me and all. Now I regret I didn't write down more.
 
-Today my memories of the past are hazy and scattered and this blog is an attempt to piece together these random fragments that feel like from different timelines in faraway places I revisit during walks on the beach or early morning drives.
+Today my memories of the past are hazy and scattered and this blog is an attempt to piece together these random fragments that feel like from different timelines in faraway places I often randomly revisit during walks on the beach or early morning drives.
 
-[Zonetoast](glossary.html) is an ongoing [chronotopological](glossary.html) endeavor of a xennial slacker, a cartography of half-remembered places, former selves, and the strange elasticity of lived time.
+[Zonetoast](glossary.html) is an ongoing [chronotopological](glossary.html) endeavor of a xennial slacker born in 1980, a cartography of half-remembered places, former selves, and the strange elasticity of lived time.