I have some sandwich from the fridge with cheese and pepper before I head out to the lively maze of old Aleppo and onto the dusty main road. At 11am I meet Murdoch and the clock tower and we spend a few good hours together. It turns out our interests are to a great extend aligned and we exchange addresses. There is some exhibition of Iranian refugees from a caravansarai he is planning in Berlin and I might be able to help him with some contacts.
Happiness is an interesting phenomenon. I don’t want to do the usual blahblah-thing about the topic, so I cut straight through to chubby parts. One way to be good is to keep happiness at a bearable distance, like always looking for Her (or Him). That’s it folks.
Why do we write?