Blue Lemonade

I told my wife two things to do with my ash after cremation: to smear it on a canvas and to throw it to the ocean. With the first one, I told her to do anything with it: make a square, paint a figure, anything--on the canvas; with the second one, I reminded her to throw it in an ocean, not a lake, or a river nearby. Somewhere open, somewhere moving, somewhere with waves, air.


Can man ever summon the courage to say what he wanted in life?

If I won't be an important writer... Maybe I'm doomed.

No, I can travel. I read about this Somali man who left his life in London (together with wife and two kids) to establish restaurants in Mogadishu. It seems selfish, but inside him he feels the urgency to do it, like the ticking of a time bomb.

I can't be an entrepreneur. I know myself. I don't like money. I want to be affluent, but handling the finances shouldn't be my worry.

I know a Facebook friend who had a career for ten years in Human Resources and turned out to be a great writer. Maybe it's not too late.