i finished the book about kowloon walled city and started reading the grasshopper: games, life, and utopia. it’s aesop’s tale about the grasshopper and the ant told through the perspective of the grasshopper. it’s a book about ludology and the book attempts to achieve a definition of what a game is, and how this definition is tied to the concept of work. and how play, in opposition, is very linked to utopian thinking. the grasshopper essentially chooses to die to embody the spirit of play, similarly to how socrates chose to die.

‘I admit that this is a wild fancy,’ the Grasshopper was saying, ‘and I hesitate to tell you my thoughts. Still, I am used to being thought foolish, so I shall proceed, invitingyou to make of my words what you will. Then let me tell you that I have always had a recurring dream, in which it is revealed to me - though how it is revealed I cannot say - that everyone alive is in fact engaged in playing elaborate games, while at the same time believing themselves to be going about their ordinary affairs. Carpenters, believing themselves to be merely pursuing their trade, are really playing a game, and similarly with politicians, philosophers, lovers, murderers, thieves, and saints. Whatever occupation or activity you can think of, it is in reality a game. This revelation is, of course, astonishing. The sequel is terrifying. For in the dream I then go about persuading everyone I find of the great truth which has been revealed to me. How I am able to persuade them I do not know, though persuade them I do. But precisely at the point when each is persuaded - and this is the ghastly part - each ceases to exist. It is not just that my auditor vanishes on the spot, though indeed he does. It is that I also know with absolute certainty that he no longer exists anywhere. It is as th~)Ugh he had never been. Appalled as I am by the results of my teaching, I cannot stop, but quickly move on to the next creature with my news, until I have preached the truth throughout the universe and have converted everyone to oblivion. Finally I stand alone beneath the summer stars in absolute despair. Then I awaken to the joyful knowledge that the world is still teeming with sentient beings after all, and that it was only a dream. I see the carpenter and philosopher going about their work as before … But is it, I ask myself, just as before? Is the carpenter on his roof-top simply hammering nails, or is he making some move in an ancient game whose rules he has forgotten! But now the chill creeps up my legs. I grow drowsy. Dear friends, farewell.’