It is time for a return, though the circumstances are much heavier than my usual technical updates.

Recently, I have made the decision to bury several of my personal projects. The servers have been permanently shut down and taken offline for both the game "Millions of Billions of Suns" and the fun-shooter "Cockblaster". Instead of maintaining these, I am dedicating my time and energy to a much deeper, more focused study of C++ in his depth down to the core.

However, this shift in my technical focus is largely driven by a profound shift in my personal life.

My beloved father-in-law recently passed away, a tragedy brought on by negligence at the Gozo General Hospital. I am now dedicating myself to the impending legal battle to seek justice for him and our family.

It is astonishing how events like this fundamentally alter your perspective. The things that once seemed important easily fade into the background when faced with real, devastating loss. My priorities have changed, and my work and writing moving forward will reflect this narrower, more serious focus.

I will be back with more C++ insights when time permits.

Addendum: The Illusion of Legacy and the Cruelty of Momentum

There is a uniquely jarring experience that comes with sudden loss: the realization that your entire universe has just violently stopped, yet everyone else’s world just keeps spinning.

When a person passes away, they are simply gone. A whole, complex human life vanishes, and you expect the world to halt out of respect, or at least acknowledge the massive void that was just created. Instead, the mundane machinery of everyday life doesn't even pause to take a breath. The Slack messages keep pinging on your phone. The emails keep piling up. You don't get the space to just sit with the silence; instead, you are immediately buried under a mountain of sterile, exhausting bureaucracy. I have spent my days drowning in paperwork, untangling international insurance policies, acting as the bureaucratic bridge between Germany and Malta, and having surreal, pragmatic conversations with funeral services.

It makes you realize how indifferent the momentum of society really is. It reminds me of the situation with Fefe — the famous, often polarizing German blogger. When he recently had to step away from his platform due to a stroke, the reaction of the digital world was chillingly brief. The internet paused, raised a collective eyebrow, and then just kept moving. It showed me once again that the world does not stop for anyone. What a cruel, transient world we live in.

This stark realization is a major reason why I took down so many of my projects. It wasn't just the games; I even pulled the plug on my work with uα (Unified Assembler), a project I had poured my heart into with the ambitious goal of creating one assembly language for every architecture. As developers, we often suffer from the delusion that we are building a legacy through our code. We pour our ingenuity, our late nights, and our passion into these repositories, hoping they will stand as a permanent testament to our skills.

But the harsh truth I've learned over these past few weeks is that, in the end, no one really cares about your genius. For proof: In my Github is the proof of the Collatz Conjuction and nobody cares. In my Github is a way to minimize multiplications of matricies by 30%, and nobody even look. If the world barely pauses for a human life, it certainly won't mourn a sunsetted codebase. (Thanks to Vibecoding much more.) The pursuit of a digital legacy feels incredibly hollow right now. So why keep hosting them? Why pay the server costs and maintain the infrastructure for an illusion?

Right now, the only things that matter are the tangible realities in front of me: my family, the fight for justice, and making peace with the things that truly hold weight.