With millions of characters, in nearly as many separate story lines. Familiar themes are replayed over all around the world. Reading between the lines, one senses a bit of sadness, sometimes one needs not to have to read between them. It usually gets back to love. Love of life, loss of love, loss of life. And over it all, like a vulture hovering, the black shadow of war diminishing the light everywhere. Will any of it last, make an impression? Or are we all like tiny candles in the night, an array of computer screens making an imperceptible constellation, each star visible only to one person? This is our novel, without any beginning or end, and no limits to the subjects, themes, pages or chapters.
This is what are blogs.