turning of the pox

I'm in another box, almost old age box. Age is maybe a number. But what one accumulates through the passage of time is so-called wisdom. The kind of wisdom that can only be acquired through experiences.
Aargh! Ya di ya ya.

Gripes.

I had chicken pox recently and I still have the scars on my face. Scars that will never fade nor vanish. I hate it when people who had childhood chicken pox don't even attempt to feign concern. It's absurd to emphatise when one feels a void of nothing.

Polin meanwhile, (big shot Polin) who I just bumped through the corridors at work related her own adult chicken pox experience. She had rigours, chills, pain. She felt what I felt. In just one minute, she made me feel better.

Then my nuclear family went to Berlin for a couple of days, just to see for myself how a leading country of the EU maintains its lifestyle. From what I could gather staring at the the deluge of modern art and architecture encapsulating the city, affluence clearly looks great, capitalism at its best.