Existence.
I find it fitting to end this writing (finally ) by an Eskimo chant, because after Israeli Jews, Eskimos of old times have been my most favorite people: Glorious was life Now I am filled with joy For every time a dawn Makes white the sky of night For every time the sun goes up Over the heavens..
It was a pretty exhilarating joy-ride, with a few sharp turns taken and in the second half, without a skid, downwind, on a sunny road.
Existence