After taking a week-long hiatus from philosophy, I awoke this morning to find that my mother had sent me this clip of pieced together interviews with Heidegger. It was an incredibly energizing experience, and I am forever grateful to have such a thoughtful, intelligent specimen for a mother. This was the e-mail that went along with it:

I must confess, dear Giulia, my fascination with this person; I ask myself how he could have continued being a philosopher— to maintain this profession of his, to call himself that— after the war. Did he not lose the faith in himself, in his capacity for thought and judgement? Was he not tempted to declare bankruptcy? What, definitely, enabled him to continue prophesying? It is for me a great mystery.