By the Light of the Arrivals Gate

By Nicole Gerber

Guinea's electricity crisis is a metaphor for the country's postcolonial maladies.

For more than a decade, night-time arrivals at Gbessia International Airport in Conakry, Guinea, were greeted by dozens and sometimes hundreds of secondary school students studying in the parking lot. A foreign visitor’s bemusement would quickly evaporate, however, as they noticed that beyond the bright lights of the partially French-owned and operated airport, block after block of the city of two million people was completely dark. Without electricity at home and needing to study page upon page of handwritten lecture notes, many young Guineans made nightly pilgrimages to public spaces, such as the airport or hotel parking lots and gas stations where costly diesel generators kept the lights on.

Witnessing this phenomenon inspired film-maker Eva Weber’s documentary Black Out, shot in mid-2011 and released in November 2012 to international acclaim. The film is concise and artfully composed. As a former Conakry resident, I appreciated Weber’s beautiful portrait of this complex city, and that the entire story is told by Guineans, with the sole foreign voices coming from occasional audio clips of news broadcasts.

Beyond simply a “look-at-this-sad-situation” documentary, the story of students driven to succeed in the face of adversity is the starting point from which Weber subtly explores political and economic dynamics in Guinea.

It is certainly refreshing in a documentary on the challenges of an African country to not have a westerner presenting the narrative. Black Out opens with clips of English-language news broadcasts contextualizing the state of Guinea in early 2011 – having just experienced its first democratic presidential election and struggling to manage competing foreign claims for its vast mineral wealth.

Moving forward, an unobtrusive and serious musical score weaves together interviews and accounts of Guinean secondary students, a teacher, and a worker at Conakry’s main power plant, Tombo, as they discuss their hopes and frustrations about their country’s development. Footage of everyday life in the roundabouts, neighborhoods, and markets of Conakry conveys the city’s bustling commercial atmosphere, which persists despite the challenges of weak infrastructure. This is neither war-torn hellscape nor poverty-stricken desperation, but rather capable, intelligent and ambitious people who feel they are being held back by forces out of their control.

“How does one prepare lessons without light?” the teacher asks, and I feel his pain, having spent many a night in Conakry straining my eyes as I graded papers or planned lessons by the light of a battery-powered lantern. Students read from their notes on topics from microbiology to Carthaginian history, information that must be memorized to pass their French-style school exams, but the terrible inconvenience and danger of staying out until 3am to study is only the beginning. The chronic lack of electricity in Guinea is a symptom of a much larger issue – an economy that struggles to produce formal employment and offers few career opportunities for high-school or university-educated Guineans.

Weber’s critiques the neocolonial economic situation. Train-loads of Guinea’s rust-colored bauxite is shown rolling through the city to the coastal port, where it will be shipped off and turned into aluminum for the profit of foreign-owned companies. “All Guineans understand that Guinea is rich,” the power-plant worker explains, and he is right. The students in Conakry lament that their country’s bauxite, iron-ore, diamond, gold and uranium resources are all being exploited by foreigners, and that poorly negotiated terms by unstable governments have thus far left the Guinean people with nothing to show for it. It is infuriating to hear young men and women proclaim that their best chances for success would be to leave Guinea. Or to hear the school teacher say that he didn’t have a chance to be a respected intellectual because he stayed in Guinea. The unfulfilled promises of politicians are lamented and highlight how domestic and international policy failures reverberate into every aspect of a citizen’s life.

This commentary is what gives Black Out staying power. Conakry’s airport parking lot hasn’t been much of a study hall lately, as a new hydroelectric dam about two hours north of the city has tripled Guinea’s electricity output since 2015. The Kaléta dam cost USD446 million, 75 percent of which was paid for by China International Water and Electric Corporation (CWE), with the state covering the remaining 25 percent. While it has not been a panacea for Guinea’s power problems, there is now electricity in most of Conakry, most of the time, and CWE is now in negotiations with the Guinean government to build another, bigger hydroelectric dam.

The Chinese were not moved by the plight of Conakry’s students to help light-up Guinea, which faced a major economic downturn in 2014 due to the Ebola epidemic and is still struggling to achieve political stability. Chinese banks and corporations have been drastically increasing their investment in Guinea’s bauxite and iron-ore mining operations, including a take-over of Río Tinto’s massive Simandou project last year.

Black Out aired for the first time on American public television recently. Although and the premise of the film no longer exists, the themes continue to be valid. Most students in Conakry can now study at home, but unless growth in the mining sectors fosters more diverse economic development, or the government of newly appointed African Union chair President Alpha Condé can implement policies that create much-needed jobs, Guineans will remain frustrated. (02/06/2017)

Alain de Botton on The Benefits of Being Away From Home

Estrada Nacional 2, Alentejo, Portugal. Photo: Toni Amengual

Though we tend to love our homes and think of them as anchors of identity, there are also disturbing ways in which they can fix us unhelpfully to a version of ourselves we no longer wish to side with. The familiar curtains and pictures subtly insist that we should not change because they do not, our well-known rooms can anaesthetise us from a more urgent, necessary relationship with particular questions.

It may not be until we have moved across an ocean, until we are in a hotel room with peculiar new furniture and a view onto a motorway and a supermarket full of products we don't recognise that we start to have the strength to probe at certain assumptions. We gain freedom from watching the take-offs and landings of planes in a departure lounge or from following a line of distant electricity pylons from a train making its way across barren steppes. In the middle of a foreign landscape, thoughts come to us that would have been reluctant to emerge in our own beds. We are able to take implausible but important leaps, encouraged by the changes around us, from the new lightswitches to the cyrillic letters blinking in illuminated signs all around us.

Being cut loose from the habitual is the essential gift of travel, as uncomfortable as it may be psychogically fruitful. Christianity once took our feelings of dislocation and placed them at the heart of a thesis as to the spiritual benefit of pilgrimages. Without accepting the church's analysis, we may nevertheless be inspired by its approach to the value of feeling like a lonely outsider. As much as any destination, it is isolated periods in untried hotel rooms, in paleozoic canyons, in disintegrating palaces and empty service station restaurants that facilitate an underlying psychological or spiritual point of our journeys. (The Observer, Sunday, June 6th, 2010)

Alain de Botton is the author of many books including 'How Proust Can Change Your Life' , 'The Art of Travel' and 'Essays in Love'.  His most recent work 'A Week at the Airport: A Heathrow Diary' is published by Profile Books.

Triple Standard_short film

WTF_dance

 

Defending the right to dance to a new masculinity.

The importance of us understanding how algorithms work

By ANJANA SUSARLA, Pledge Times, 13 April, 2021

In the early days of social media, writers and journalists around the world extolled its power as the Arab Spring woke up. Now, in the era of covid-19, experts warn against misinformation about the pandemic or infodemic, which abounds on social networks. What has changed in this decade? How do we now understand the role of social platforms and remain alert to the damage that their algorithms perpetrate?

Networks and digital activism

The networks promised to have better connections and to expand the speed, scale and reach of digital activism. Before they existed, organizations and public figures could use the mass media, such as television, to spread their message to the general public. The media were the filters that allowed information to be disseminated according to established criteria to decide which news was a priority and how it should be delivered. At the same time, citizen communication, among equals, was more informal and fluid. The networks blur the boundaries between the two types and offer the best connected the possibility of being opinion makers.

Twenty years ago there were no media capable of raising awareness and mobilizing for a cause with the speed and scale provided by networks, in which, for example, the #deleteuber label (erase Uber) caused 200,000 accounts to be eliminated in a single day of the transportation application, accused of “thwarting” a strike against Trump’s immigration veto in 2017. Before, for citizen activism to triumph, years of negotiations between companies and activists were necessary. Today, a single tweet can subtract millions of dollars from a company’s stock market value or cause a government to change its policies.

Towards radicalization

While such an opinion-maker role allows for unfettered civic discourse that can be positive for political activism, it also makes people more susceptible to misinformation and manipulation. The algorithms on which social media news updates are based are designed for constant interaction, to achieve maximum engagement. Most major technology platforms operate without the filters that control traditional sources of information. That, together with the large amounts of data that these companies handle, gives them enormous control over how the news reaches users. A study published in the journal Science in 2018 proved that false information on networks spreads faster and reaches more people than real information, often because the news that elicits emotions seduces us more and, therefore, is more likely to be shared and amplified through the algorithms. What we see on our networks, including advertising, is thought based on what we have said we like and our political and religious opinions. Such personalization can have many negative effects on society, such as voter deterrence, misinformation directed at minorities, or advertising targeted on discriminatory criteria. The algorithmic design of Big Tech platforms prioritizes new and micro-directed content, leading to an almost limitless proliferation of misinformation and conspiracy theories. Apple CEO Tim Cook warned in January: “We cannot continue to ignore a theory of technology that says any form of engagement is good.” These models based on participation have as a consequence the radicalization of cyberspace. Networks provide a sense of identity, purpose, and bond. Who publishes conspiracy theories and contributes to misinformation also understands the viral nature of networks, where disturbing content generates more participation.

Coordinated actions in networks can disrupt the collective functioning of society, from financial markets to electoral processes. The danger is that a viral phenomenon, accompanied by the recommendations of algorithms and the resonance box effect of the networks, ends up creating a cycle of filter bubbles that feed back and push users to express increasingly radical ideas.

Let’s educate about algorithms

Rectifying algorithmic biases and providing better information to users would help improve the situation. Some types of misinformation can be solved with a mixture of government regulations and self-regulation to ensure that content is monitored more and misleading information is better identified. To do this, technology companies must agree with the media and use a hybrid of artificial intelligence and detection of false information, with the collective collaboration of users. One way to solve several of these problems would be to use better bias detection strategies and offer more transparency about the algorithm’s recommendations.

But it is also necessary to educate more about networks and algorithms: that users know to what extent the personalization and recommendations designed by big technology configure their information ecosystem, something that most people do not have enough knowledge to understand. Adults who mainly inform themselves through social networks are less aware of politics and current affairs, according to a survey by the Pew Research Center in the US. In the era of covid-19, the World Economic Forum talks about infodemic.

It is important to understand how platforms are deepening the divisions that already existed, with the possibility of causing real damage to users of search engines and social networks. In my research, I have found that depending on how the platforms provide their responses to searches, a more health-savvy user is more likely to receive helpful medical advice from a reputable institution like the Mayo Clinic, while the same search, made by a less informed user, will direct you to pseudo-therapies or misleading medical advice.

Big tech companies have unprecedented social power. Their decisions about what behaviors, words, and accounts to authorize and what not to dominate billions of private interactions, influence public opinion, and affect trust in democratic institutions. It is time to stop seeing these platforms as mere for-profit entities and know that they have a public responsibility. We need to talk about the impact of the ubiquitous algorithms in society and be more aware of the damage that they can cause due to our excessive dependence on big technology.

Anjana Susarla holds the Omura-Saxena Chair in Artificial Intelligence at the Eli Broad College of Business at Michigan State University.

Aferrados a nuestros móviles: Byung-Chul Han contra el ‘smartphone’ como oso de peluche digital

Adelanto del nuevo libro del filósofo surcoreano. En él, el autor de La sociedad del cansancio advierte de que esta tecnología convierte a los otros en objeto, y destruye la empatía

Por BYUNG-CHUL HAN

Hoy llevamos el smartphone a todas partes y delegamos nuestras percepciones en el aparato. Percibimos la realidad a través de la pantalla. La ventana digital diluye la realidad en información, que luego registramos. No hay contacto con cosas. Se las priva de su presencia. Ya no percibimos los latidos materiales de la realidad. La percepción se torna luz incorpórea. El smartphone irrealiza el mundo.

Las cosas no nos espían. Por eso tenemos confianza en ellas. El smartphone, en cambio, no solo es un infómata, sino un informante muy eficiente que vigila permanentemente a su usuario. Quien sabe lo que sucede en su interior algorítmico se siente con razón perseguido por él. Él nos controla y programa. No somos nosotros los que utilizamos el smartphone, sino el smartphone el que nos utiliza a nosotros. El verdadero actor es el smartphone. Estamos a merced de ese informante digital, tras cuya superficie diferentes actores nos dirigen y nos distraen.

El smartphone no solo tiene aspectos emancipadores. La continua accesibilidad no se diferencia en gran medida de la servidumbre. El smartphone se revela como un campo de trabajo móvil en el que nos encerramos voluntariamente. El smartphone es también un pornófono. Nos desnudamos voluntariamente. Funciona como un confesonario portátil. Prolonga el “poderío sagrado del confesonario” en otra forma.

Cada dominación tiene su particular devoción. El teólogo Ernst Troeltsch habla de “los cautivadores objetos devocionales de la imaginación popular”. Estabilizan la dominación al hacerla habitual y anclarla en el cuerpo. Ser devoto es ser sumiso. El smartphone se ha establecido como devocionario del régimen neoliberal. Como aparato de sumisión, se asemeja al rosario, que es tan móvil y manejable como el gadget digital. El like es el amén digital. Cuando damos al botón de “Me gusta”, nos sometemos al aparato de la dominación.

Plataformas como Facebook o Google son los nuevos señores feudales. Incansables, labramos sus tierras y producimos datos valiosos, de los que ellos luego sacan provecho. Nos sentimos libres, pero estamos completamente explotados, vigilados y controlados. En un sistema que explota la libertad, no se crea ninguna resistencia. La dominación se consuma en el momento en que concuerda con la libertad.

Hacia el final de su libro La era del capitalismo de la vigilancia, Shoshana Zuboff evoca la resistencia colectiva que precedió a la caída del muro de Berlín: “El muro de Berlín cayó por muchas razones, pero, sobre todo, porque la gente de Berlín oriental se dijo: ‘¡Ya está bien! (…) ¡Basta!’. Tomemos esto como nuestra declaración”. El sistema comunista, que suprime la libertad, difiere fundamentalmente del capitalismo neoliberal de la vigilancia, que explota la libertad. Somos demasiado dependientes de la droga digital, y vivimos aturdidos por la fiebre de la comunicación, de modo que no hay ningún “¡Basta!”, ninguna voz de resistencia (…)

El régimen neoliberal es en sí mismo smart (inteligente). El poder smart no funciona con mandamientos y prohibiciones. No nos hace dóciles, sino dependientes y adictos. En lugar de quebrantar nuestra voluntad, sirve a nuestras necesidades. Quiere complacernos. Es permisivo, no represivo. No nos impone el silencio. Más bien nos incita y anima continuamente a comunicar y compartir nuestras opiniones, preferencias, necesidades y deseos. Y hasta a contar nuestras vidas. Al ser tan amistoso, es decir, smart, hace invisible su intención de dominio. El sujeto sometido ni siquiera es consciente de su sometimiento. Se imagina que es libre. El capitalismo consumado es el capitalismo del “Me gusta”. Gracias a su permisividad no tiene que temer ninguna resistencia, ninguna revolución.

Dada nuestra relación casi simbiótica con el smartphone, se presume ahora que este representa un objeto de transición. Objeto de transición llama el psicoanalista Donald Winnicott a aquellas cosas que posibilitan en el niño pequeño una transición segura a la realidad. Solo por medio de los objetos de transición crea el niño un espacio de juego, un “espacio intermedio” en el que “se relaja como si estuviera en un lugar de descanso seguro y no conflictivo”. Los objetos de transición construyen un puente hacia la realidad, hacia el otro, que se sustrae a su fantasía infantil de omnipotencia. Desde muy temprano, los niños pequeños agarran objetos como los extremos de un cobertor o una almohada para llevárselos a la boca o acariciarse con ellos. Más adelante toman un objeto entero como una muñeca o un peluche. Los objetos de transición cumplen una importante función vital. Dan al niño una sensación de seguridad. Le quitan el miedo a estar solo. Crean confianza y seguridad. Gracias a los objetos de transición, el niño se desarrolla lentamente en el mundo que lo rodea. Son las primeras cosas del mundo que estabilizan la vida de la primera infancia.

El niño mantiene una relación muy intensa e íntima con su objeto de transición. El objeto de transición no debe alterarse ni lavarse. Nada tiene que interrumpir la experiencia de su cercanía. El niño entra en pánico cuando extravía su objeto querido. Aunque el objeto de transición es una posesión suya, tiene cierta vida propia. Para el niño se presenta como una entidad independiente y personal. Los objetos de transición abren un espacio dialógico en el cual el niño encuentra al otro.

Cuando extraviamos nuestro smartphone, el pánico es total. También tenemos una relación íntima con él. De ahí que no nos guste dejarlo en otras manos. ¿Puede entonces compararse a un objeto de transición? ¿Sería como un oso de peluche digital? Esto se contradice con el hecho de que el smartphone es un objeto narcisista. El objeto de transición encarna al otro. El niño habla y se acurruca con él como si fuera otra persona. Pero nadie se arrima al smartphone. Nadie lo percibe propiamente como un otro. A diferencia del objeto de transición, no representa una cosa querida que sea insustituible. Al fin y al cabo, compramos regularmente un nuevo smartphone. (…) A diferencia del objeto de transición, el smartphone es duro. El smartphone no es un oso de peluche digital. Más bien es un objeto narcisista y autista en el que uno no siente a otro, sino ante todo a sí mismo. Como resultado, también destruye la empatía. Con el smartphone nos retiramos a una esfera narcisista protegida de los imponderables del otro. Hace que la otra persona esté disponible al transformarla en objeto. Convierte el tú en un ello. La desaparición del otro es precisamente la razón ontológica por la que el smartphone hace que nos sintamos solos. Hoy nos comunicamos de forma tan compulsiva y excesiva porque estamos solos y notamos un vacío. Pero esta hipercomunicación no es satisfactoria. Solo hace más honda la soledad, porque falta la presencia del otro. (El País, 2/10/2021)

Byung-Chul Han (Seúl, 1959) es filósofo y ensayista y da clases en la Universidad de las Artes de Berlín. Este extracto es un adelanto de ‘No cosas. Quiebras del mundo de hoy’, que publica Taurus el 7 de octubre.

 

10 Steps to Happiness

Cinema Paradiso: Learning English with Moving Images

By CARLOS MARTÍN GAEBLER

It is often said that Spaniards have a longstanding idiomatic deficit when it comes to speaking a foreign language. This is partly due to a very simple fact: hardly ever are they exposed to hearing foreign languages spoken on TV or at the cinema, since all of the films they watch and hear are dubbed into their native language. Naturally, they are not well prepared to develop an ear for English. They find learning it much more difficult than, for instance, their Portuguese neighbours, who are used to hearing English-speaking films or series on a regular basis. This same pattern occurs in other EU countries, such as The Netherlands, Denmark or Sweden, which, together with a more efficient bilingual education system, accounts for the high standard of English of their citizens.

The rich variety of highly-acclaimed English-speaking films and series produced in Britain, Ireland, the United States, Canada, Australia or New Zealand provide you with the opportunity of enjoying a vast diversity of actors’ accents: Ralph Fiennes in The English Patient; Emma Thompson and Anthony Hopkins in The Remains of the Day; Helen Mirren in The Queen; Nicole Kidman in Dogville; Meryl Streep and Clint Eastwood in Bridges of Madison County; Hugh Grant in Love Actually; Heath Ledger in Brokeback Mountain, or all the different American accents in Crash. Therefore, using moving images to improve your English is of utmost importance in an increasingly multilingual global society.

Here are some tips aimed at helping advanced learners of English (living in Seville) to obtain a better understanding of today’s lingua franca. Current releases with Spanish subtitles can be seen at the Avenida, Metromar or Nervión Plaza cinemas (discount day is Wednesday). Another option is seeing films with English subtitles from the Speak Up dvd series (you can check out some of them at the self-learning section of the Engineering School library on the Cartuja campus), which come with a helpful glossary, or enjoying the digital technology of DVDs, which also allows you to watch and read a film at the same time. Besides, seeing an English-speaking film with English subtitles online is strongly recommended because you experience the film directly in English from beginning to end without having to read a Spanish translation of it.

If you happen to be a television fan, TV platforms nowadays offer you the possibility of watching films and series in their original version. Finally, the legendary Metrópolis from La 2 screens subtitled short films or advertising selections from time to time. (See TV listings.)

In short, remember that hearing a dubbed film is like experiencing only half of it because the voices of actors and actresses who star in films are essential to fully enjoy cinema. Somebody once said, “Watch a hundred films and you’ll find the meaning of life”. Ultimately, watching foreign films and series in the original version is just another way of broadening your cultural horizons.

Meet "Generation Mute"

By NONA WALIA
Times of India, April 8th, 2018

Remember when teachers scolded us for talking too much in class? When “talkative” was a part of our report cards sent to our parents at the end of the year? Well, if talking was an object, it would be a relic right now. Tales of talking would probably make for good fairytales. Because if recent studies are to be believed, this generation is falling silent.

Youngsters simply don’t like talking anymore. Texting or using social media is fine. Even an pair of earphones will do, as long as speaking to someone can be avoided. Here’s what a survey from British communications regulator Ofcom revealed. About 15 per cent of 16-24-year-olds don’t want to use their phone to speak to people. They would rather use instant messengers. The same research also said that teenagers would even message people sitting in the same room, at times, next to each other; but not talk to them.

Why we have talking anxiety...
A part of this problem could be because we do not have any shared experience of sound in our digital world. Says Sunaina Mathew, engineer, “We have moved into a noiseless and soundless world, where we hear only our voices and the sound through our earphones buzzing.”

There is a private world of sounds in public spaces. For example, we can sit anywhere, even amid people, but just listen to our favourite playlist. Earlier, we were familiar and accustomed to sounds around us – people talking, the radio playing, children screaming, dogs barking, clang of kitchen utensils, etc. Now, the only sound we hear is the one we choose to, through our earphones. We go to silent discos, listen to music on earphones, have conversations on earphones, listen to movies with our headphones on; we have internalised our relationship with sound and made it a very private affair.

Etiquette expert Pria Warrick says for this generation the most natural and casual communication mode is texting, and phone calls are viewed as an ordeal. “Social media have changed how we communicate privately. There was a time when everyone talked for hours on the landline, and that was considered as a relaxation technique at the end of the day — between friends, lovers, parents-children — but now we think twice about violating someone’s space by calling them on the phone,” she says.

There was also a time when birthdays were special occasions when you expected people to call you. But even that has become a textual affair these days. Maira Khanna, 36, doctor, didn’t get any calls on her birthday, but was flooded with text messages. “I missed the sound of people’s voices and the laughter along with the wishes,” she rues. MIT psychologist Sherry Turkle, one of the leading researchers looking into the effects of texting on interpersonal relationships, feels the onslaught of information and time spent with screens is another reason why people are talking less. 

Emotional fallout
Psychologist Rachna Khanna Singh tries to throw some light on this phenomenal change in human behaviour in this century that, she says, will have far-reaching consequences on our emotional stratum. “We are conditioned to go for what’s easy because the innumerable choices and distractions in our lives — social media interactions throughout the day, work correspondence, traffic noise et al — have made our minds exhausted and we are seeking silence with a vengeance now,” she says. 

On public transport, we have our earphones on, lest someone should look our way, smile, or worse... talk to us. While out socialising, we are more bothered about interacting with people on the virtual world from our smartphones than the ones right in front of us. Digital expert Chetan Deshpande finds this quite funny and gives an interesting pointer. He says, “Being used to smartphones and social media for a while now, we also love editing our thoughts and expressions. Thanks to courtesy readily-available dictionaries and emojis, we have become accustomed to reducing our mistakes, editing every thought and expression, which isn’t possible while talking on the phone. This freaks people out.” 

It’s also a scientific fact that anxious people become tongue tied. Now, think about an anxiety-ridden generation, multi-tasking 24x7. No wonder even the thought of picking up a phone to talk has become a terror.

Sound stats
About 15 per cent of 16-24-year-olds don’t want to use their phones to speak to people. They’d rather text. In TIME magazine’s mobility poll, 32 per cent of all respondents said they’d rather communicate by text than phone, even with people they know quite well. This is truer still in the workplace, where communication is between colleagues who are often not friends.

In Praise of Rugby

Tackles, collisions, players running into each other at full speed... rugby is a combat sport. There is certainly more contact than in football, although according to the old English saying: While football is a game for gentlemen played by ruffians, rugby is a game for ruffians played by gentlemen. If there is something that distinguishes rugby, it is the attitude of respect in the sport. You can see a referee who measures maybe a metre seventy telling this guy who is nearly two metres tall and weighs more than a hundred kilos "you've committed a foul, retreat ten metres" and the other man never complains. This attitude also exists between any two sets of fans, something that is related to the sport's concern with values. This can also be seen on the stands. When you go into a rugby stadium, there is a very warm atmosphere and there are never any insults; it's a very healthy feeling.

Related articles: 
Rugby vs fútbol, by John Carlin
Perder, por Bruno López

Breaking Bad, a masterpiece now, and a masterpiece a hundred years from now

Everything stands out, from the subtle details, to the unmatched writing and the perfect cast, to the very beautifully shot scenes. Breaking Bad, created by Vince Gillian, may very well be the best TV series out there. The story, even with some creative liberties, is well grounded, believable and feels very real. The show, unlike others, ages like fine wine. The more you watch and the longer you sink in, the better it gets. I can think of few series which grow stronger and better every season. It's not only worth sinking your teeth into, it's worth eating. Breaking Bad is a timeless piece and it will stand even long into the future, and will forever be one of the best TV shows to ever come out.

Definitely one of the greatest series ever. It just gets better as it goes along. The journeys of Walter White and Jesse Pinkman are something I will never forget. These are some of the best written characters to ever come from a pen hitting a paper. My praises for the acting and cinematography are unending. Some of the shots are intricate works of art, and in general the performances are just excellent. This makes all but the best movies look like utter dribble, and in terms of tone, every intense moment is executed with excellence, and always has the impact it's going for.

The plot of the series in the early seasons lacks a certain level of complexity, and the start is a bit slow paced, but nevertheless, this is an absolute must-watch, preferably one episode a day. If you have mixed feelings about Season 1, trust me, it's only uphill from there. If you want a series to call perfect; I think this might be it.

A Letter Home

Aisling Brennan, a 12-year-old Irish primary school girl, is the winner of the Young Travel Writers Competition at this year's Lismore Immrama Festival of Travel Writing, sponsored by Aer Lingus. Here is her winning "Postcard to Home", a delightful read:

NORMAL IS BORING

 

      Self-explanatory