I have everything in the world. I have food and shelter, I have enough money for a plane ticket to take me anywhere. I have loved ones on the other side of the world, and friendly acquaintances everywhere I turn. I have a little accordion-looking chingadera called a concertina. I have too much stuff and time to kill. I could retire on a beach tomorrow, yet I am not ready for the purgatory of leisure. My outright reason to live died in a car accident, yet I remain. Even absent, we ever persevere.