I’m 8,036 days old now. It was a blessing. I’m thankful for the families and strangers, for love and hate, for success and failures, for courage and fear, for happiness and loneliness, for friends and enemies, for smile and sigh, for money and debt, for good and bad, for adventures and solitude, for wisdom and stupidity, for truth and lies, for imagination and reality, and for everything that life had offered me. It was a proof that I exist.
This may sound so ambitious but I hope I could still have this thing called life for another twenty-two years and the years after that.
It was 6:30 in the morning on the 12th day of February 1991. It was also a Tuesday.