Recently a friend teased me: you watch Cuban films, Swedish films, Portuguese films (in closed captions) and witter away woh scene, kya crossroads. Dude, this movie is worthy talking about. I didn't reveal to him yet that I also watched Elmer Gantry and Marty (English films the same week). I realized that I am freaky fortunate to have uninterrupted quietude on my side. Each time I squeal about this John Barth and that Willem Elsschot, I realize that I have accrued plenty of time to indulge in my pursuits. I love world cinema and offbeat novels. The premature salvation of our earthly life is our planned ability to invest time on activities that mean much to us while on Earth. I have been immensely fortunate that I could do what I want. Hmm, only because I am never encumbered by compulsive responsibilities. If someone asks me: what is the the best part of your life, eh: time for my interests. Is that a valid selection, like, is "time' in your multiple options? But when friends insist that Novalis you have no idea how *&^% lucky you are that you can mince up two books a day, watch classic movies to your content, eat like a whale, with no anguish in your untroubled mind, girl, you are very lucky. I wonder, am I that lucky but never mindful about it by underplaying much of my sustained excitement along with that commensurate time. OK, I stop before I hit 100 lines. But it's a nice feeling to be myself with no regrets (arey: if that) and no inhibitions (ayyo: if only) with the tide of time.