These days, the web of connections you form in a lifetime is more visible, as though the internet pushed a certain number of cc-s of contrast substance into the bloodstream of the social organism. The easier it is to see what is there, the more painful, somehow, is the thought of the absences. This whole invisible net of threads that were too thin to last, so they just remain within one person, as outward stumps that mark the fact that you once grew there. Friends that left so far that even the most far-fetched attempts at reaching them failed, so you gave up. Friends with whom you once found communion of spirit, but it is no longer there. Friends whom you hurt and therefore you cannot recover. Beginnings of friends. Relatives. Memories of other people’s friends with whom you could, at a moment or other, share a glass of wine and a wise thought. Sure, there is hardly enough life to maintain the living network. Yet I cannot help thinking, not nostalgically, but with the intensity of thought that would, if possible, push love into the now broken synapses – I wish these people, all of them, each one of them, so much good.