Before going to sleep, I check the news. Among other newspapers available online, I check The Guardian. One of the articles that attract my attention is about a certain Alain de Botton. The name rings a bell, but not more than that. And so I google the fellow’s name. As it turns out, he is quite a star. A Swiss-British writer, philosopher, television presenter, and entrepreneur is all over the place. There are many books and televisions shows to his name. Besides, I come upon the list of names of his, as it were, precursors: Proust, Montaigne, Epicurus, Seneca… A kindred soul, it crosses my mind. And then I look into the photographs of the great man, who is twenty-three years my junior. “Nah,” I conclude pretty quickly, “a false lead.” Now, how in the world could someone ever be sure about such things? I have no idea, but I am as sure as sure can be. De Botton is far from a kindred soul. Period.