I'm always curious about how the first day of the new year will turn out. Perhaps I'm a bit superstitious and I'm trying to read into my future, an effort which is futile for the future is impossible to guess and for the better I'm sure. If we did indeed know the future, our life would become a tramp, as many a literary character has found out. Nevertheless, it is hard to resist certain expectation of this day. I haven't made any New Year's resolutions, as I'm in that period of life when everything seems uncertain. Another thing that is hard to avoid is trying to reflect on (and sometimes summarize) the previous year. This year I have nothing to summarize, time no longer feels so linear. There are times when what is and what has been is connected in ways that is hard to separate. Still, there is something fresh about the beginning of a new year. It's like a blank paper that needs to be filled. Another chapter. Or the first chapter of a new story?