Arash Zeini

Yann Martel, the author of Life of Pi, has been sending a book every two weeks to Canada’s Prime Minister since April 16, 2007. A visit to Canada’s House of Commons on March 28th, 2007 and the first hand experience with politicians inspired him to this wonderful project. He writes:

For as long as Stephen Harper is Prime Minister of Canada, I vow to send him every two weeks, mailed on a Monday, a book that has been known to expand stillness. That book will be inscribed and will be accompanied by a letter I will have written. I will faithfully report on every new book, every inscription, every letter, and any response I might get from the Prime Minister, on this website.

What an interesting way for an artist to communicate with a politician. (I realise that we may not be able to call this a communication due to a lack of response and feedback from Mr Harper! What a pity).

Read more here: What is Stephen Harper reading?

If you are struggling with Unicode and related fonts, have a look at these sites:

Alan Wood’s Unicode Resources

Gallery of Unicode Fonts

On snot and fonts

Hourmazd ist seit gestern offiziell ein Schuhträger. Auch wenn ihm die Koordination mit seinen neuen Schuhen nicht immer leicht fällt, so kann man ihn immerhin gehen hören, was ja auch neu ist. Er trägt Clarks Größe 4F.

The work of writing makes one lose one’s sight, it hunches the back, it breaks ribs, and bothers the stomach. It pains the kidneys and causes aches throughout the body. Therefore you, the reader, turn the papers carefully and keep your fingers from the letters. Because just as hail destroys the fields, the useless reader erases the text and destroys the book.

Nunio & Dominic, April 18, 1091

Today I visited Sacred the exhibition at the British Library. It was a wonderful and informative exhibition, offering a scholarly overview not only of the scriptures of Judaism, Christianity and Islam, but also of matters such as festivals, worship, rituals and ceremonies. Whoever did not visit the exhibition missed one of the once-in-a-lifetime chances to see some truly beautiful old books and pages of ancient scriptures.

The continuous process of remaining open and accepting of what may reveal itself through hand and heart on a crafted page is the closest I have ever come to God.

Donald Jackson, Senior Scribe to Her Majesty’s Crown Office.

Mittlerweile kann Hourmazd sehr gut stehen. Er merkt es nur noch nicht. Und sobald er es mitbekommt, fällt er. Letzte Woche habe ich ihn dabei entdeckt, wie er unter dem Tisch stand, und ein Stück Brot aß. Ich habe das Gefühl, daß er sehr bald gehen wird. Zumindest übt er sehr fleißig.

Ich hatte am Samstag Geburtstag. Da wir in London nicht viele Leute kennen, fielen die Feierlichkeiten eher bescheiden aus. Dafür waren aber die Geschenke um so wertvoller. Ich habe von Hourmazd und Azadeh jeweils eine sehr schöne Karte bekommen. Dazu hat mir Hourmazd ein Glas Tinte für meinen Füller geschenkt, und Azadeh hat mich mit dem langersehnten Titel “Die Vermessung der Welt” (oder bei perlentaucher.de) überrascht. Viel Zeit habe ich im Moment nicht, werde aber die Vermessung bald anfangen und freue mich schon darauf. Zusätzlich gab es noch die Rosinenschokoladen, die ich sehr mag. Nichts hätte mir besser gefallen. Zur Feier des Tages haben wir dann alle Arbeit ruhen lassen, und haben uns endlich in die Stadtmitte begeben. (Aryo, mein Neffe, hat immer wieder nach Big Ben gefragt, und ich schuldete ihm Fotos.) Von da aus haben wir dann einen ausgedehnten Spaziergang zu SOAS gemacht und uns mit der Umgebung vertraut gemacht. Daß uns London bei dem Spaziergang positiv überrascht hat, ist keine Frage. Wären nur die Preise nicht so hoch… Hourmazd war ganz besonders von Borders und Waterstone’s angetan und hat reihenweise Bücher aus den Regalen geschmissen.

Wie vorhin steht dort die Sichel des drei Tage alten Mondes. Wenn man kurz vor dem Morgengrauen in der Stadt dort hinaufschaut, erscheint es einem seltsam, dass so ein großes Objekt völlig kostenlos da am Himmel steht.

H. Murakami, Afterdark

I predict that Hourmazd will become something of a gastronome. Since his introduction to solid foods, he has sampled two main types of baked good: a pleasingly-shaped cookie produced by Nestle, tasting vaguely milky and sugary, and, per the box, designed to introduce the young palate to ‘taste.’ On his own insistence, he has also partaken of the basic breakfast Brötchen, which he finds far superior, both in texture and taste. Unlike the Nestle biscuit, or ‘kek,’ it doesn’t immediately crumble. Instead, it softens slowly, as his three little teeth work the crust. Only when the piece in hand is sopping wet does he fling it away, with regal impatience. If he were a Persian monarch, perhaps he would be called Garampa Shah.

I am terribly fond of souffles. I like their poofiness, the anticipation involved when one orders them half an hour ahead, everything that sets them apart from pedestrian desserts like tarts or tiramisu. Eating souffle is an experience, as one first punctures the poof, decides whether or not to add cream. And maybe there is something of the tahdig to a souffle. In particular how one scrapes the sides, to get the crusty bits.

In the four weeks of German interlude, Hourmazd has demonstrated a special affection for trains. When whimpering on the platform — a sound he reserves for moments when the stroller is irritating him, but has not yet driven him into full-blown despair — the sight of the swift red locomotive instantly brings a smile to his face, and he begins pumping his arm up and down in a cheery wave. Once on board, he typically likes to crawl up the arm rails, pinch the sleeves of passerby, and wriggle about in hopes of being placed on the floor (unlikely). Hourmazd considers the train a far superior mode of transportation than the car, which he dislikes on par with having his diaper changed, and eating pureed chicken. Because of his irresistible looks and charming smiles, Hourmazd inevitably captures the attention of German commuters, who make googly eyes and various other silly expressions in hopes of eliciting a grin. Sometimes he beams. Other times, he sighs and looks away, as if to say, another day, another commute.