Must be tough to have your birthday on Christmas. Everybody keeps talking about that other guy.
Yesterday, as you were driving me from my old Slovenia into my not-so-new-any-more Italy and the ride extended to almost 12 hours due to intense traffic between Florence and Rome, I said that the VIP Pearl Jam ticket is the best present I could hope for. Then I asked you what you wished for the most.
You said peace.
Even though the barking dog and the talking woman cannot promise to deliver that, you do realise that Superman would soon become very bored if peace and quiet ruled the world.
Also, a woman is like a car: an expense but you’ve got to have one. (Huh-huh.)
The dog is an extra though.
Supermarco, happy birthday! We promise you that we will keep you entertained if not completely at peace. Because peace, as much as desired, spells death if overdone.
And to all the rest, merry Christmas and all minor, daily victories, and thank you for sticking around.
But first a photo of a painting that you sent me a long time ago, when I was still over there. I kept it open in my browser for a long time and stared at it occasionally. Not that now I can see the sea quite like that, but in a way it was my window to the world and you have opened it. Thank you for that. ❤