One moment he is utterly depressed about a grievance in his luxury accommodated life. Like when we are out of chocolate spread. Or a hole wrecks his grijze t-shirt. Maybe his favorite sitcom runs low on episodes. Anything. The next moment he is all smiles again, and you would never suspect the tears that momentarily preceded. I wonder how he does it: shedding off the sorrows of a six year old and to instantly produce an upbeat demeanor. Fortunately enough, Kasper is willing to share his secret: “You see, I am really a quick forgetter”.
They say that it is all about the journey, and not the destination. This is true, but actually there is a lot more to it. Life encompasses not a single adventure, but many. I know by experience, that the destination concluding one journey, subsequently entails the starting point of the next. Now you have embarked on a new journey, one you hesitated a while about. Ivana will hold your hand along the way. I know she will. When your restless soul seeks answers, her voice of reason will guide you, comfort you. I salute you, my friend.
One year in a dog’s life is about seven years in a man’s life. With technology, the same principle applies, only with double the lever. I learned about this concept when my oldest boy was being condescending about my laptop (thís very laptop, I wrote most of my Bites on it). “You know that one year for a computer is fifteen years for a human?” Me: “Is that so?” Cosmo: “No, I just made that up. But is is still true”, and he then he drives his point home: “Your laptop is about six years old, see how unbelievably slooooow it is”.
One day in my early teens, I fitted my father’s blue blazer. The left inside pocket possessed a hole. I felt something was there. Out comes my father’s golden watch. It showed a lot of wear and tear and was best described as fashionable in the fifties. Still, it was my fathers watch. My mother bestowed it to me as memento, one of the very few I had of him. Two years later, our house was burglarized and the watch was stolen. My mother reduced to tears. That day, I experienced that my deepest emotions were not dependent of things.
A while ago I broke an egg into a bowl of flower to learn it had gone bad. Since that unfortunate egg, I invented the Indian egg test. Before use, I break an egg into a separate bowl now, to smell if it is usable at all. When in doubt, toss it out. Taught my children the smell test too. So now my daughter is preparing pancake batter: “How should an egg smell like?”, I ask “Should smell like egg”, she says. Me: “Wrong”. Lucie is puzzled for a moment. Then she remembers: “If it doesn’t smell like nothing, it ain’t good”.