Being pushed to the limit to some extent serves some good, the whole point is that when pushed to the limit you tend to make sound decisions not in all cases but when your life depends on something and you don’t have enough choices to gamble with you tend to think about consequence before making the choice. Imagine someone who is about to detonate a bomb and is down to two wires, every second counts and at the eleventh hour you have to snap one wire it may not require reason anymore to make a choice but whatever you do you know your life depends on it. Time travels so fast, in a moment we are thinking of something and just as we are at it the first initial thoughts are drawn in to history, with each stroke of the clock the present is supped in to history and we have no control over what has passed but have the potential to shape or even redirect some aspects of the future based on the choices and decision’s that we make.

So what if you could change your past? Would you change your color, family, status and the list goes on and on. I have had many people moan over their past as if they did not have a choice to make sober choices then. But think about it, what if we could really change our past, I know it sounds like the fairy movies just like the time machine movie, where someone leaps way back in to the past to change something or correct a wrong or even make good use of a wasted opportunity. Given the choice would you be willing to dig in to your past and straighten some of those crooked choices you made? I don’t think so, I am sure that if that opportunity existed the world would be way back than it is right now.While i don’t believe in predestination i know some of the choices that we made in the past are responsible for our present life, the wasted opportunities, the extravagant and lavish spending the careless words and many more. You have probably had this question before, as a driver what do you do when the lights are just about to turn red, do you stop or do you proceed?

I am sure you have read about the man who became a millionaire just by selling tomatoes, this man goes to look for a job as a bookkeeper, but misses the chance because he has no email address, with his last money in the wallet he buys tomatoes then goes on to sell them and gets profit and this continues and before you know it he is owning franchises and becomes a millionaire. Years later in his quest to find a suitable insurance for his property he is asked to give his email address by the insurance company but still he has no email. So when asked how he has amassed such wealth without Internet and email he responds that if he had an email address he would still be a bookkeeper. Your story may have turned out differently from his but are you sure you want to change the past? Please let me live my present and work hard at shaping tomorrow for if I still have today why should I grieve over yesterday?

Yesterday my mother called me on Skype to let me know, that while my grandma was sitting herself down in her apartment to write me a letter, she stumbled on the chair, bumped her head against the wall and cut-open her forehead. When her son (my uncle) came over to her place, he said, and I quote: “It looked like a bloodbath”. “But don’t worry”, said mum hurriedly, “she’s back home and she’s fine. You better give her a call”.

So I did. She said it was odd: “I fell in my apartment before and I always remembered every second of it, even when I was in the air, like a… like a scene from a 3D movie. But this time I don’t know how it happened”.

After I asked her a few questions to make sure she was alright (what year is it? who’s your favorite grandson?) she went on to tell me the following story, to demonstrate that at least her short-term memory was still intact: “A nice young fellow called me on the phone just before I fell; he said he was conducting a survey about politics and asked if I was willing to answer a few questions. Said it wouldn’t last more than 3 minutes. Well, what do you think? of course it lasted 5 minutes, but I didn’t mind. At the end he was supposed to ask for my age but instead he said: ‘Ma’am, excuse me for saying, but you sound like a 60 year old woman, and yet your accent gives away that you’re far older than that’ “.
Granny wasn’t insulted because the young man guessed her age, of course. She was bothered by the fact that after 71 years in Israel, she still had a “Jecke (German Jew) accent”.

However, this is not the part of her story which drew my attention. I thought that if both I, at 30, and my nana, soon turning 30 for the third time in her life, are aware of this old-new 3D technology, which recently penetrated our life, so to say, then it’s probably worth a discussion. Plus, I realized that I wasn’t spending enough time speaking with my grandma if she had to result to strangers conducting a telephonic survey about politics.

I hereby present you with the conclusion of that late night discussion. It’s not a film critic about the last (and only) three films I watched in 3D: Avatar, Alice and Monsters vs. Aliens (the latter I watched on my laptop, wearing those ridiculous shades, which made that jelly-blob monster literally dance on my lap).

3D is exactly like the German verb beeinträchtigen; at first you’re speechless, really; then you start playing with it – Beeinträchtigung? Beeinträchtigkeit? – then you start to conjugate it – ich beeinträchtige, du beeinträchtigest, er/sie beeinträchtiget – and suddenly, before you notice, you start saying things like: Ich hätte nie beeinträchtigen sollen.

Filmmakers are now at the playing with it period, a little pass speechless. It may still sound strange, but eventually they’ll get it right. Isn’t it a natural process, like with Talkies or color films? not because we should embrace technology, but simply because all it’s trying to do is mimic the way we perceive our reality and after all, we see things in 3D in our day-to-day life – with the help of our 2 eyes.

Now I agree: films are not a reflection of our reality, but merely a representation of it. And yet, it seems that in order to represent reality or to reflect it, or even on it, they try to make it as believable as possible, even when the plot is completely absurd; even when the protagonist steps through a Looking-Glass into the “opposite world” – we define it as opposite to the things we define as “straight” in our “normal” world. In the same way we define color (as oppose to b&w); silent (talkie); and 2D (3D).

The next step – 3D without the glasses – is already around the corner. Alarming, even if you are a fan of this technology. Imagine: in Kill Bill II the wedding scenes were shot in black&white, relying on our common knowledge that b&w films are a thing of the past and therefore, these scenes must have taken place prior to the color scenes, which are taking place “now”. Will Kill Bill IX (in 3D) shoot the flashback scenes simply in 2D?

3D home cameras are also already being produced, so your average film student (or average dad) could shoot any film in 3D – starring Na’vis or not. Will other directors, less majestic than “the king of the world”, also start using these cameras? will we be sucked into the colorful sensual world of Pedro Almodóvar? join a witty philosophical discussion about life with Woody Allen? will any producer be crazy enough to lay one of those cameras in Lars von Trier’s hands? and what about porn?

These are all questions for the future. In the meantime we are stuck, as mentioned, in the playing with it period: gimmick to say the least; cool to say the most. This brings me back to the thing which bothered my grandma when speaking with the young fellow; he said: “you sound like a 60 year old woman, and yet your accent gives away that you’re far older than that”, meaning: although technology – the modern-day wireless phone – transmits your voice in a way which makes it sound younger and fresher than you really are – I recognize your real voice and thus I know your real age. Or in other words: 3D makes things look better than they are, but we are still one step ahead of it. It seems that even my nana already figured it out. I’m just glad she’s alright.

Papers are important. We need them. It is necessary some record of your existence, a way to prove who you are, where you came from, what you are able to do or not. I remember my classes about Max Weber and his conception of bureaucracy as an “iron cage” that holds the individual inside. Bureaucracy is a way of control and a power struggle, and as Weber sentences, it is mostly based on written documents and rules.

During the last weeks, I have been working on all the documents I need prior to arriving in Germany. There were two ways to certificate a document: Original versus copy. I chose “copy”. It was the wrong way. At least, I just need a few days to fix my mistake, but I’m a little bit disappointed. Why did I choose “copy” instead of “original”? That is the enigma. Indeed, it is funny that it happened here, where I speak Spanish and I (professedly) understand everything they explain to me. The good thing about being “obsessive” is that I planned to have two weeks to solve any “unexpected procedure”.

Today, I started to read my DAAD-booklet in order to avoid any unpleasant surprise regarding German bureaucracy. The information is very helpful. Now, I know I have to open a bank account, to register in the immigration offices, to check that I have got the right type of visa (Bewerbervisum). It seems that I should expect many hours of waiting lines. Stamps, taxes, procedures, photographs, codes… It would be good for me to learn how to be patient.

However, I understand that bureaucracy is necessary to order this world, as I said before. The only concern I have got during these years, including my experiences as student and as professor, is the huge amount of “paper” that every institution needs to work. Nowadays, technology could help to reduce the use of paper, to share information in real time and to provide solutions to our bureaucratic demands. Environmentally, bureaucracy should be reborn. Is a paperless institution the answer? I’m not sure either. It probably will require more energy to work. Besides that, the information is so worthy and so sensitive that I think it could be safer to print it in a physical record.

My simple bureaucratic slip-up is now waiting in the recycling basket near my desktop. It has joined some advertising brochures, old newspapers, bank receipts, a draft of an article and other paper-based documents. I should plant a tree before I go.

On January 9 the city of Essen and the Ruhrgebiet were declared “Capital of Culture 2010″ . The DAAD wants to support this special occasion and starts its new blog project on www.kulturhauptstaedte.net today. Are you a foreign student studying in Essen, Duisburg, Bochum or any other university in the Ruhrgebiet? This is your chance to write about your experience, film, photograph or produce a podcast about your life in Germany and share it with others.

Also, we invite all Germans studying in either Pécs or Istanbul – the two other Capitals of Culture 2010 – to submit their contributions as well.

Your effort will be rewarded with a really cool limited t-shirt, making you a real “Kulturhaupstädter”. If your contribution is voted best by other users, you will also win a 50-Euro-voucher for Amazon every month.

Show us your side of the story and join in!

www.kulturhauptstaedte.net

Sehr verehrte Leserinnen und Leser,
Liebe Constipendiaten,

Nun darf ich Sie und Euch alle wieder aus Freiburg begrüßen, wo ich eigentlich erst gestern Mittag angekommen bin.
Sie werden sich vielleicht fragen, ob ich doch in dem römischen Dieburg, zusammen mit Nida der wichtigste Ort der Civitas Taunensis, gewesen bin und dazu darf ich erzählen, dass ich mich in letzter Minute um entschlossen habe, und die Heimatstadt von dem leidenden Werther, nämlich Wetzlar an der Lahn besichtigt habe.

Der erste Eindruck, den ich von Wetzlar bekommen habe, war eher trist. Und zwar, weil der Bahnhof an der anderen Seite der Lahn liegt, an der Mündung einer Nachkriegszeitfußgängerzone, die fast nur mit geschlossenen Geschäften umhüllt ist. Ähnlich wie etwa in Meißen an der Elbe, beginnt die schöne Altstadt erst am anderen Ufer des Flusses.

Inmitten der mit Schnee bedecken Dächern, erhob sich der Turm des Domes hoch empor. Und wie man die Gassen bis zum Marktplatz hinaufsteigt verlor sich das Auge in den unzähligen sehr prachtvollen Fassaden der Fachwerkhäuser. Sonnen, Meerjungfrauen, Weinranken, Heilige, Kronen, Zepter und Sprüche begrüßten den neugierigen Reisenden. Schon auf dem Markt, wo auch ein Wochenmarkt stattfand, bekam ich eine Ortskarte und begab ich mich zunächst zum Dom. Diese Kirche wird, als schönes Exempel der Ökumene, zur Hälfte von der evangelischen und zur Hälfte von der katholischen benutzt. Als Jurist ist es besonders erfreulich zu sehen, dass die Cameralherren in ihren Grabsteinen, inmitten ihrer Wappen und Lebensdaten mit goldenen Lettern ihr Lebenswerk und –Pracht verewigten: Cameralherr am Gericht; Assessor des Richters, Doktor der Rechte. Denn in dem kleinen Provinzstädtchen lag bekanntlicherweise das Reichskammergericht über 200 Jahre lang.

Von da aus ging ich zum Lottehaus, also dort wo die Person, die die Figur der Lotte in dem berüchtigten Roman inspiriert hat, tatsächlich gelebt hat. Es handelt sich vielmehr um einen Museumskomplex in was früher ein Anwesen des Deutschen Ordens gewesen ist. So besichtigte ich zuerst das Stadtmuseum, und danach das benachbarte Haus, das Haus von Charlotte.

Wie ich rein kam wurde ich von der Museumswächterin durch die Räume geführt. Ich lernte die Geschichte der Bilder kennen, sah die Erstausgaben des Romans (der sog. Urwerther, die Raubausgabe mit den Stichen von Chodowiecki, die ersten Ausgaben in französischer, italienischer, spanischer und englischer Sprache, usw.), und bewunderte das Klavierkord von Lotte. Am Ende der Führung wurde ich nach meinem Herkunftsland gefragt, und so stellte sich heraus, dass ich der erste Mexikaner gewesen bin, der das Lottehaus je besichtigt hat. Folglich sollte ich mich natürlich in einem Gästebuch eintragen.

Danach ging ich essen und nach dem Essen in das Reichskammersgerichtsmuseum. Wirklich ein schönes, niedliches Museum. Im Großen und Ganzen war es wie eine Vorlesung der deutschen Rechtsgeschichte. Man durfte Illustrationen zur Goldenen Bulle, Prachtsausgaben des Sachsenspiegels, der Carolina, usw. sehen. Es gab viele Karten mit den Jurisdiktionsdistrikte, Bilder der berühmtesten Assessoren, viele Repräsentativwerke des Kameralliteratur, usw. Auch natürlich, und das kam mir besonders gut entgegen als Jurapraktikant, war einen Saal über die Praktikanten am Reichkammergericht vorhanden. Schön war es auch, dass als ich in dem Shop (meines Wissens sagt man nicht „Museumsladen“ sondern „Museumsshop“, obwohl es sich nach einem Anglizismus der Deutschen Bahn anhört) eine Kleinigkeit kaufte, ich dazu noch ein Faksimile einer Jurisdiktionskarte aus dem 18. Jhd. als Geschenk bekommen habe.

Bemerkenswert ist es auch, dass in allen diesen Museen in Wetzlar man immer zuerst klingeln muss, um überhaupt herein zu kommen. Man wird sogar gefragt, was man da möchte, und erst wenn der Reisende erklärt er möchte das Museum besichtigen, wird er rein gelassen. Nach dem Reichskammergericht ging ich zur Wohnung eines seiner bekanntesten Arbeiter, nämlich zur Wohnung des Karl Wilhelms Jerusalem, ein Bekannter des Autors von „West-Östlicher Divan“, der mit seinem Suizid die berühmte leidenschaftliche Figur mit gelben Hosen der deutschen Literatur inspiriert hat.
Dort wurde ich ebenfalls persönlich empfangen und durfte dann ein Modell der gelben Hosen und des blauen Gehrocks sehen und dann, am Ende der Führung sogar seine Pistole in die Hand nehmen. Denn wie der Führer zu Ende kam, öffnete er eine Schublade des Schreibtisches, nahm die Reisepistole heraus und überreichte mir die Waffe.
Von da aus verabschiedete ich mich von Wetzlar und kehrte nach Frankfurt zurück.

Ihnen und Euch allen wünsche ich noch eine schöne Woche.

Funny human beings, as though we knew what we’re doing.

Did you really think that you control yourself, that you’ll never do it again, that you know where your place is?

You’ll never do it again, of course, who would dare say you would? We are funny human things. Like we believe to have control upon the things we say, the things we do, the things we fear. Of course you said it, and you meant it, that you would never ever dare do it again, think about it again, fall again, think again, go again, straight up.

So cautious that you were.

Funny little things. That walk upon the earth crawling and rolling and forgetting. Forgetting, that it wasn’t me who promised never again. Like never, ever.

Never again? Hands up, you move in circles, star on your forehead, now you know.

You know, that you are a funny thing. You know, that you will always forget. You know, that you will not fulfill forgotten promises.

You will learn to forgive yourself.

P.S. And I, by the way, will never ever again lecture everyone as to what the philosophy of life is (if I, funny thing, don’t forget what I just said!)

Früher habe ich gesagt, dass mir nur die Zeit des Großfürstertums Litauens an Litauen gefällt, jetzt, nach mehr als 20 Jahre Beobachtungen, kann ich behaupten, dass die schönsten Zeiten für Litauen noch in der Zukunft liegen, wenigstens im Form des Landespotenzials. Natürlich hängt es alles an Entwicklungsrichtigkeit, aber man kann sehen, das Litauen schon in mehreren Lebensbereichen vorwärts kommt. Diese positive Bewegung hat im Grunde genommen vor 20 Jahren angefangen, und zwar mit dem Unabhängigkeitsakt.

Litauen, wie wir es heutzutage kennen, war nicht immer so. Im 13. Jahrhundert widersetzten sich die Litauer erfolgreich dem Deutschen Ritterorden und galten ab 1385 als Großmacht, die sich von der Ostsee bis ans Schwarze Meer ausdehnte. Doch im 20. Jahrhundert litt Litauen an Fremdherrschaften, die dank Einheit des Volkes zweimal zur Unabhängigkeit des Landes führten.

Heutzutage sind wir offiziell Teil Europas (EU Eintritt 2004), geografisch sind wir als Zentrum Europas anerkannt; im Jahre 2009 trugen wir stolz den Titel Kulturhauptstadt Europas. Ein kleines Volk, mit etwa 3 Mio Menschen wird auch scherzhaft mit Sparta verglichen(das eigentlich nur 300 Einwohner hatte), natürlich litauische Eigenschaften betonend. Es scheint klein zu sein, aber in Wirklichkeit ist es schon das größte Land der Baltischen Staaten, die nicht nur Größe, sondern auch andere Eigenschaften hat. „Wir Litauer stehen wie Erbsen am Wege, die wie die Bauern sagen, jeder der vorbeigeht gerne pflücken und kosten möchte“ – so schilderte der litauische Staatspräsident Antanas Smetona die geopolitische Lage seines Landes in einer Rede aus dem Jahr 1934. Noch schöner wir Litauen von Dichter und Schriftsteller beschrieben, aber die echte Schönheit kann man nur aus der Nähe betrachten, die litauische Kultur, die Sprache, die Menschen – und als internationale Studierende sollten wir das machen – die Schönheit des Heimatlandes für andere vermitteln.

Heute werden wir in Göttingen unser Land kurz präsentieren, dazu sind fünf Litauer aus der Gegend angereist. Wir begehen nämlich am 11. März den Tag der Unabhängigkeit und dazu noch 20 Jahre der Wiederherstellung des Staates Litauens. Mit Litauischer Geschichte, Musik, Sprache und mit typische litauische Menschen, Bilder.

Auf Youtube gibt es ein nettes Video zu den unbekannten Seiten Litauens: Unseen Lithuania

Ein Paradox: Man fühlt sich nirgendwo mehr als Litauer als im Ausland. Hier wird man mit seinem Heimatland irgendwie direkt verbunden. Der Tag der Unabhängigkeit wird denkwürdiger, vielleicht im Prozess der Reflektion, vielleicht doch aus Angewohnheit. Das ist eigentlich komisch, weil ich bin selbst, genetisch gesehen, keine Litauerin, ich bin die dritte Generation von Ausländer, wie in Deutschland gesagt wird: mit Migrationshintergrund, trotz alledem bin ich dem Land sehr treu, vielleicht kenne ich es schon aus mehrere Sichten, um das objektiv zu bewerten. Im Ausland sieht man die Geschichte des Landes anders, aus Europäischer Perspektive, man versteht die strategische Wichtigkeit des Landes, man erkennt Litauen als uniquen Teil des Gesamtbild Europas, im großen Länderpuzzle der Welt.

It was sunny day in San José downtown. 29.4 Celsius degrees. I live in the capital of Costa Rica, a small city surrounded by green mountains and volcanoes. The news report said that there is a manifestation of illegal taxi drivers, known as “porteadores”, and a chaotic traffic-flow as a result. I was planning to go to the German Embassy today, but I have decided to postpone it for tomorrow (even with that protest could be interesting to photograph).

My list has a lot of bureaucratic “things-to-do” in queue. I have only 21 days left (einundzwanzig Tage) to go and I am quite sure I have enough time to complete it. However, my head has a lot of questions: Some of them regarding my future life there, in Leipzig and Berlin, mixing with other doubts about my present (or previous) life here. My “things-to-do” list does not only include papers and procedures. There are personal appointments, parties, family dinners and coffee chats. It is not easy to move from one continent to another. I am a little bit exhausted.

Maybe that is why my most-desired plan is to go to the beach. Costa Rica has two wonderful oceans and I would like to spend some days just lying in the sand, drinking a beer and enjoying the view while I get suntanned. This little country is lucky: Both coasts, the Pacific and the Caribbean, are just two or three hours away. I feel I have to say goodbye to my beloved sea, at least for a while. I think I need to absorb all the available solar energy to help me to survive the first European winter of my life…

Today, the Universidad de Costa Rica has celebrated its first week of lessons of this year. I used to work as a professor and radio producer there. The festival included cultural and artistic activities around the campus. Indeed, some of my friends organized a concert with some rock, punk, ska and garage bands. The music was great. The students were enjoying the beats and dancing while I was there taking some photographs. I will miss my campus.

Photography, for me, is the best way to know about something or someone. I often remember this quote from André Kertész: “The camera is my tool. Through it I give a reason to everything around me”. I hope my camera would help me to answer my questions and to silence my fears. What will I photograph in Europe? What kind of manifestations and social struggles am I going to find? What kind of faces, buildings, landscapes? It is a mystery, sometimes I feel a little scared, but I truly love that feeling of delving into a new place.

Some things can only be said in a group of two. I mean, of course you can say them also in a group of three, but only in a group of two do you know for sure, that what was said, was meant solely for you and if what you heard was disturbing, you can’t pretend it was meant for the other guy.

A few days ago I attended an important meeting. I can’t give away exactly where and whom with, but I can say it was in a prominent Israeli organization here in Berlin and that the purpose of the meeting was to see, whether the two women I was meeting with could help me publish a manuscript in Germany.

One of them, we’ll call her Lisa, I had known from a previous engagement. In fact, she was the one who suggested to hook me up with the other woman; this one was precisely that – a “hook”. I think Casandra would be a suitable name for her.

I was sitting (or was I seated?) opposite Casandra, Lisa watching us from aside, not intervening, but in a position to come to my rescue if I was to swallow Casandra’s hook. She introduced herself as the oldest woman working in the building and went on and on about all the writers she knew: “David Grossmann? – I read him even before he was so Gross…he was a shy public-speaker at the beginning, but we brought it out of him, didn’t we?; Golan? – she’s a ‘cradle-snatcher’… it means she sleeps with younger men”, she explained in light of our silence. Not a very polite thing to say, I thought, but still, quite poetic, wasn’t it? “Am I young enough to fit the description?”, I asked, but received no answer. Worse as that – her silence approved that I wasn’t. And then she went on about another ‘favorite’ female-writer of hers: “Her?! she’s a Cholera!” (I could try and translate this word, but do I really need to? let it slip through your mouth a couple of times; what does it taste like?). Eventually, Lisa said she had to leave us, and then – it was whispered in the air – there were two.

“Are you an admirer of men or women?”, asked Casandra, again with the poetics. “Women”, I said. “Good, now you listen to me: everyone who has attempted to bury themselves in the Holocaust archives, doing the kind of research you do, has gone mad. Go get yourself a nice Israeli girl FROM ISRAEL, with both feet planted in the ground – OUR ground – and then come back and continue with your research”.

Now what was I supposed to say to that? Even with Casandra’s frantic (mis)demeanor, her squeaky voice and all those moments when you weren’t even sure if she realizes you’re sitting there in front of her – I still really liked her. It was exactly this uncertainty which I liked. But now I was wishing I knew for certain if she was being serious or not. I couldn’t help but feeling like the protagonist in a Polanski film, who has just been warned about his inevitable fate – rendering the warning irrelevant. “Anyway, I think I can help you with your manuscript”, she said and left the room.

This was a strange thing to do. In the kind of place I was having the meeting, it was customary to escort the guest all the way to the exit. But there I was, alone in the room, a party of one. Maybe she left me alone so I could think about what she had just said; maybe it was her way of letting me know that this wasn’t another poetic joke. Or maybe, it was simply a countdown to the inevitable: three-two-one.

It is that time of the year when I really feel homesick, I am not sure if the change in seasons has anything to do with it. One would expect that with my constant nagging over a break I would be at peace and enjoy my short break, but no, there is always something on my sleeves that desires attention and at this moments all my internal biological meters suggest that I am critically homesick. It has become a common thing to find myself wondering in to oblivion, whistling local tunes and reminiscing the great times spent at home with friends and family only to wake up to the present reality.

There are a lot of things that I have wished for while here in Germany, but one thing that I am earnestly wishing and praying for is that I may not fall sick again while being here! I don’t mean to be critical of the system here but the reality is that it can be so frustrating sometimes. Till this moment I don’t exactly know the correct procedure, when one is sick do you go to the hospital or the clinic? Please help me so thatI can understand because when I went to the hospital they told me there is nothing much they can do so I should go to the clinic. Okay, so I go to this clinic and I don’t like the way they receive me, off course I wasn’t expecting a standing ovation, but I won’t moan over it because by now it doesn’t bother me any more. However, despite that the doctor is really friendly and helpful and that finally puts me at ease, the whole exercise goes on so well and finally I am treated and given some medication without an injection and a booking for further checkup.

When all is said and done and I am on my feet once again, I receive this big bill to pay , that’s when the second batch of problems start again. Honestly Idon’t know exactly what the insurance covers, it is all in deutsch and nobody explained to me the articles and clauses contained therein. The whole exercise of filling out forms again, explaining every detail of howI became sick, when and how I felt just doesn’t make sense and telling me to pay part of the bill doesn’t make sense either, but I guess it is how it works. The whole exercise has been long and torturous that recounting it all over again makes me sick and that is exactly what I don’t want to feel again. So I just pray that God will grant me this one wish, Oh Lord I pray that you may grant me good health that I may not fall sick again, but if it be that it is unavoidable then I pray that I fall homesick!