My beloved went to her office early this morning. Having slept another hour or so, I went out myself after my morning ablutions. On my way, I picked up a bag of garbage from the kitchen, which I intended to throw into the garbage bin in front of the building door. As I was walking down the stairs, I met one of the neighbors going up. She smiled: “How are you?” “Well,” I smiled back and showed her the bag in my hand, “still making garbage.” She cackled: “We make garbage all our lives.” That was my point exactly. Still alive, that is.