As a filter coffee enthusiast, I recently upgraded from the Timemore C2 to the Kinu M47 Classic for my pour-over setup, primarily using the Hario Switch. The difference is night and day. The Timemore C2 was a solid entry-level grinder—affordable, decent consistency—but its 38mm burrs struggled with uniformity at coarser settings, limiting my brews. I’ve since donated it to share with colleagues at the office, where it’s still churning out decent cups.

The Kinu M47 Classic, though, is a masterpiece. Its 47mm Black Fusion-treated conical burrs bring precision and clarity to my Hario Switch pours, revealing vibrant florals and crisp acidity the C2 couldn't touch. The stepless adjustment (0.01mm increments) pairs perfectly with the Switch's versatility. At 0.95kg, its stainless steel build dwarfs the C2's plasticky frame, and grinding is buttery smooth with four ball bearings, though its a workout compared to the Timemore's lighter crank.

The Hario Switch is my playground for techniques like Tetsuya Nakajima's "The Devil" method–full immersion for 3-4 monites with a high dose (e.g., 20g coffee to 200g water) before a slow drip release, yielding a bold, syrupy cup. I also tweak immersion times (1-2 minutes) for lighter, tea-like brews or use it as a straight dipper. The M47's grind consistency enhances every approach, coaxing out nuanced flavors the C2 muddled.

The Kinu’s construction is a marvel of engineering. Crafted in Germany, its body is machined from high-grade stainless steel, giving it a robust, premium feel that screams durability. The 47mm burrs, treated with a Black Fusion coating, resist wear and maintain sharpness far beyond standard steel. Four precision ball bearings ensure the crank glides effortlessly, minimizing wobble and maximizing grind uniformity. The thumb rest and ergonomic handle make the manual grind less taxing, while the adjustment knob’s micro-precision clicks inspire confidence. It’s a stark contrast to the C2’s simpler, less refined build.

Priced at B$539 versus the Timemore C2's ~B$80, it's a leap, and I miss the portability. But for my pourover setup, the richer body and clarity are worth it. The Timemore C2 now fuels office coffee breaks, while the Kinu reigns at home, making every pour a ritual.

Why Greatness Cannot Be Planned: The Myth of the Objective by Kenneth Stanley and Joel Lehman challenges the conventional wisdom that success stems from clear, predefined goals. The authors, both AI researchers, argue that the obsession with objectives—whether in science, art, or personal ambition—often stifles true innovation. Instead, they propose that greatness emerges from open-ended exploration, a process they call "objective-free stepping stones." Drawing from their work on evolutionary algorithms like novelty search, they show how pursuing novelty over fixed targets can lead to breakthroughs that rigid planning might never uncover.

"Stepping stones don’t come with a map—they come with a willingness to wander."

The book’s strength lies in its blend of rigorous science and accessible storytelling. Examples like the invention of the wheel or the unpredictable evolution of Picasso’s art illustrate how detours and serendipity outshine linear progress. Their critique of modern systems—education, corporate ladders, even AI development—lands hard: goal-chasing creates a "deception trap," where short-term wins blind us to broader possibilities. The writing is clear, though occasionally repetitive, hammering the point home with zeal. Critics might argue it romanticizes aimlessness, but the authors counter that structure still matters—just not the suffocating kind.

Data backs their case. In experiments, their novelty-driven algorithms outperformed goal-oriented ones in solving complex mazes, suggesting that abandoning objectives can unlock paths we can’t foresee. Yet, the book isn’t a how-to manual; it’s a mindset shift, urging us to embrace uncertainty. It’s not flawless—practical applications feel vague at times—but it’s a compelling wake-up call for a world addicted to metrics.

"Greatness isn’t rare because it’s hard to achieve; it’s rare because we’re conditioned to ignore the adjacent possible—small, weird steps that don’t fit our plans but lead to unimagined heights."

Here’s the mind-blowing insight: Greatness isn’t rare because it’s hard to achieve; it’s rare because we’re conditioned to ignore the adjacent possible—small, weird steps that don’t fit our plans but lead to unimagined heights. Most of us fixate on destinations, missing the truth that the next big thing often hides in the overlooked, the unplanned, the seemingly trivial. This isn’t just novel—it flips our entire lens on progress, whispering that the secret to the extraordinary is already under our feet, if only we’d stop marching long enough to notice.

The Presence, directed by Steven Soderbergh, is a hauntingly inventive take on the ghost story genre, distinguished by its narrative arc and a jaw-dropping plot twist that redefines the film’s emotional core. Shot entirely from the perspective of an unseen supernatural entity, the movie unfolds as a slow-burn family drama laced with spectral intrigue, culminating in a revelation that transforms its seemingly straightforward premise into a poignant meditation on grief, guilt, and redemption.

The story arc begins with the Payne family—Rebecca (Lucy Liu), Chris (Chris Sullivan), and their teenage children, Tyler (Eddy Maday) and Chloe (Callina Liang)—moving into a beautifully renovated suburban home. The camera, embodying the titular presence, drifts through the house, observing the family’s fractured dynamics. Chloe, grieving the loss of her friend Nadia to an overdose, senses the entity’s watchful gaze, while her self-absorbed mother and cruel brother dismiss her unease. The arc builds tension through subtle supernatural hints—books float, shelves crash—interwoven with the family’s unraveling relationships. Chloe’s isolation deepens as she secretly dates Ryan (West Mulholland), Tyler’s manipulative friend, and the presence grows protective, knocking over a drugged drink Ryan prepares for her. This escalation hints at a classic haunting, but Soderbergh keeps the focus on emotional undercurrents rather than cheap scares, setting the stage for the twist.

The plot twist arrives in the film’s final act, shattering assumptions about the presence’s identity. As Ryan’s sinister nature surfaces—he confesses to killing Nadia and drugs Chloe again—the entity frantically intervenes, rousing a sedated Tyler. In a shocking climax, Tyler tackles Ryan out a window, killing them both to save his sister. The denouement reveals the presence as Tyler himself, trapped in a paradoxical loop where his death enables his redemptive act. This twist reframes the entire arc: the entity’s fixation on Chloe wasn’t Nadia’s ghost but Tyler’s future self, seeking atonement for his past cruelty. The final image—Rebecca glimpsing Tyler in a mirror—seals the story with gut-wrenching sorrow.

This narrative pivot elevates The Presence beyond a gimmicky POV experiment into a profound exploration of familial bonds and personal evolution. The arc’s slow build, though occasionally frustrating, pays off by making the twist both surprising and inevitable. It’s not a horror film in the traditional sense—lacking jump scares—but its eerie atmosphere and emotional depth linger. Soderbergh’s masterful camerawork and the cast’s raw performances amplify the story’s impact, though the ambiguity of the presence’s timeline might leave some viewers puzzled. Still, the twist’s resonance, blending tragedy with a flicker of grace, makes The Presence a standout, proving that the most haunting ghosts are the ones we carry within.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Looks like I’m not the only one having this issue with the Logitech Keys-To-Go 2. There appears to be some sort of a glitch where I lose bluetooth connection to my device whenever I start typing on the keyboard. I hope this is a software-related problem and not a defect.

I guess I’ll have to send it back to the store since it is still under warranty.