Is it just me, or does this happen to everyone? This, that when everything inside is screaming to be heard, words will not comply? This, that when the panic-rises-to-a-crazy-boiling-point and everything seems topsy-turvy-stupid-within the only expression that seems to make sense is a big-wide-smile. Because, my loves, someone once told me that 'every time you smile - someone will fall in love'. And you think that the very least you can do is play eternal-cupid for someone else. Says the Rat, in her heartwarming (and ego-bruising) pep-talk kal, the only thing that distinguishes me from all-the-other-people-out-there-who-will-live-and-die and I have fulfilled an Angelina-Jolie-esque criterion for meaningful-existence, I have been of some use. Says she (and Jolie) that life being what it is, the only question your maker might ask of you when you're up there standing que at the pearly-gates-of-what-have-you is what use were you to the world (in general). What did you do, someone-out-there will demand, that justifies your existence to begin with. And if you don't have an answer, we speculate, then you may just be sent back to this world as a bug - or a dengue-macchar - who has but one purpose: to travel to the Philippines and infect S (remember my love, that the dengue you fear so very much is actually a little bug's salvation) and then to die knowing that the usefulness to the world has expired. N, once told me that in her past life she had been an executioner. You know them people who pull the plug and smile while the person-in-front-of-them-chokes-to-death-and-stuff. I wonder, sometimes, what my past life was all about. There was one Halloween-y moment when I thought that I might have been born a black-cat-in-Egypt. Which, you must admit, would probably have been a good life back in the day when the kali-billi was a creature of worship (and not the bugger you avoid in the road lest it cross your path and completely ruin your day). But upon reflection (some) it occurs to me that in a life before this perhaps I was a caterpillar. A little-green-worm snuggled up in a little leaf waiting for that painfully-beautiful moment in which life's purpose was achieved and it emerged from the cocoon as a butterfly. It also occurs to me that maybe it was right in the middle of the cataclysmic-change that the inevitable happened and I found myself at the pearly-gates completely unfulfilled and not-yet-a-butterfly. Perhaps that was the moment when I was sent back (not having been of much use in life number one), to try (once again) to achieve the metamorphosis-denied.