-What’s that one wish for you?
-Oh, that one’s easy.
-Yeah all right, let’s hear it then.
-I wish..I wish I was as good of a boyfriend as I am a friend.
-Damn man..did you come up with that in therapy?
-No, why?
-Then how do you do that?
-Do what?
-Think about that stuff on your own? I mean you had that answer locked and ready to go. I mean I asked you just so I can get a bearing on where should I go and look for mine but it’s like you were already too far for me.
-What, I don’t think I was.
-I hate those fake humble moments of yours..
-Fair enough, sorry. So I once asked my niece who was 5 at the time that famous question: Who would you wanna have dinner with, dead or alive?Knowing she had no idea who Nikola Tesla was, Socrates, Caesar or any of the historic or present great people are. My nephew answered that Elon Musk would be cool to talk to. He was 10 at the time. I was like, hmm that’s pretty smart for a 10 year old and I was so proud of him.
But then. Then she comes with a smile and just says: mom.
-Right? I mean I had to take a deep breath just to keep myself from being frozen in that moment of realisation for the rest of my life. By the time I took that breath and swallowed whatever that emotion was which was stuck in my throat, she added ‘and dad’. And that’s it. That’s the answer. Apparently you don’t need to know everything to know what’s most important. It seems the more you know the more you lose focus on what’s really important. A 5 year old answered that question better than the 100% of people you or me could have asked. Who doesn’t want a dinner with their mom and dad. Maybe you even make them laugh. Maybe they tell you a story you never heard before. Maybe I don’t know what happens. But one thing I know for sure. That dinner.. is the best dinner you can ever have. So that’s always how I answer. I forget everything and then it just comes to me. It’s like that expression explain to me like I’m five. That’s how I answer. Just like i’m five. That way I can never be wrong.



– Are you scared?
– We don’t ask that.
– What do we ask then?
– We ask ourselves is it worth it.
– Is it worth what?
– Worth living if there is nothing to fight for.
– And what do we fight for?
– The only thing worth fighting for – love.


Once, upon a time

– You know I like you.
– Well, I remember you saying it only that one time.
– Once is enough.
– No it’s not!
– What if I once told you that I hate everything about you, what would you do?
– I would slap you and left you right there.
– You see, once is enough.


Free love


– I let him talk to them.
– Didn’t he say they were gone?
– He lied.
– You say that with a smile that is so him.
– I know.
– There it is again. You are becoming more and more like him and I’m not sure I like that.
– You’re wrong, I’m becoming more and more like me.
– I still don’t like it.
– Then you don’t like me.
– If he still talks to them, how can you be so sure he is still yours?
– He’s not mine, I only love him.



– What is art?
– Anything you love but can’t explain why?
– Is love art then?
– Oh yes!


Love to hate

– I hate writers. Just look where all the shit that happens started. It’s always a speech or a quote that inspired some idiot and now he has followers and money and..
– Women. That is what you mind the most, right? The women around them. Women that are there because of some words a writer wrote.
– What?
– Because your wife or a girlfriend left you for a writer. Or you dad was one and you never saw the magic that he tried to pass down to you. And let me tell you something. The magic? It’s real. That is why there are followers, money and all those women there.

At least that’s the way I would write this dialog we are having right now. It’s more interesting then you just hating on writers. That’s why people loved House, he said shit like this.





– There’s a shirt I love. Every morning it’s the first shirt I think of when I open my closet. It’s rarely there. It’s either on the chair or in the wash but I think of it every single day. Of course, I can’t wear it all the time. But every time I stand in front of a mirror in a shirt that is not that one I don’t look as the man I want to be. There is always that thought that I could look better, be better, if only I was wearing that shirt.
– Are you still talking about the shirt?
– Was I ever?


That feeling

It’s not the Moon, the stars, the night. Nor the waves crashing or the pebbles rolling. The soft wind it is not also. The quiet might be but is not. It’s the fact that she is holding your hand. It’s love.