The man introduced himself before ending his visit: "My name is Nick," he said, and the little kid, about seven years old, is Ivan. I said hi. I said my name when asked for it. I believe one should be polite towards him, towards any man who had knocked at your door at 9AM on a Saturday to hand out magazines, hoping to preach the word or instill thought-provoking questions, at the very least, which plagued you for the next few hours, while driving or sipping coffee in the afternoon. ("Where do we go when we die?" Nick asked, and I said I'm not so sure.) I skimmed through the zine and found an article about the afterlife sitting right next to an article about the adaptability of cuttlefish, written in the formal Tagalog preachers use, inquisitive and extremely polite. "Kayang baguhin ng mga cuttlefish ang kulay nila para makapagtago, anupat hindi na sila halos makita." Towards the end it poses a question: "Ano sa palagay mo? Ang kakayahan ba ng cuttlefish na magbago ng kulay ay resulta ng ebolusyon? O may nagdisenyo nito?" I'm surprised it's inquiring, and not as proselytizing as the rest of the magazine. Another highlight is a chapter about Liechtenstein, with snippets about its history and food: "Ang Kasknopfle, pasta na maraming keso." Towards the end of it is a section which bears resemblance to grammar books, asking questions about the text to gauge your reading comprehension.