Биография

“What’s the worst part?” She asked. It made him laugh, that question. “Wouldn’t you rather know the best part?” “No, I want to know the worst,” she said. He looked away from her smile and gazed into the fabric of a dark green carpet. “The worst part is not knowing what’s real or not. Doubting, sometimes fully and with no mercy, what’s most precious.” 
 And then he asked her a very important question. “What do you think is most precious?” But she did not want to give it away. So she raised her camera and focused, and the thing went *click*. “That’s a good one,” she said. “At least let me ask you this then,” he compromised, “what’s the best part?” “Oh, that’s easy,” she insisted. “The best part is coming alive one morning, or coming alive one night, and realizing you’ve become one of those whose heart is good in the dark. You might even laugh. And while the world is cursing traffic, and while the world is cursing you—you curse no one—not even yourself.”