Not far from my table in a crowded café there sits a man in his late twenties or early thirties. Sitting alone, he is reading a book. Whenever I look at him, he is smiling. He is laughing on occasion. But I just saw him shaking with laughter. Delighted, I felt like getting up and asking him what he was reading. But I stopped myself from interfering with his mirth. Instead of reading the same book, I should write an even funnier one. The one that would make me laugh whenever I felt like it.