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January 26, 2002
Twelve hours of sleep. I can't remember the last time I did that, not even when I was sick. I am still lethargic, yet shining sky drives me out of the house, makes me restless.
Chai in hand, people-watching in this small hamlet, I am struck by the realization that I am happy. Chaos and exhaustion of work not withstanding, forget the fact I don't have a personal life; right here, right now, I am happy, not content. I don't want millions, to retire to a life of leisure. I want what I have right now. With one small exception.