Our story

It is as if this is a page. One of many, not in the life of Me or anything corny like that, but instead in the life of Ludvig, a Kundera character. It follows the traditional order, the letter, the response, the internal dispute, the collapse, and incredible gap in time. So here we are, just like Ludvig, singing songs of Optimism and Opium, hanging flags from windows and writing poetry about idealized women. Being completely apart from reality, but swearing reality is all. So here we are, at the end of the story. Not a memorable story, not a great story, some good moments. Ludvig the naive. Bacchus the naive. What a story.