Up in the mountains watching the fiery red sun set turn in to the black night, illuminated only by a bright ball in the sky, life flashes past your eyes.
Sitting by a beautiful beach, listening to the ocean roar. Realizing how small we are.
In a Casa, somewhere in Amsterdam, eating a dumpster-dived meal, surrounded by those we love, singing, laughing, dancing.
No matter where we are, who we are with, we must recall the The Fifty-third Calypso of Bokononism:
"Oh, a sleeping drunkard,
Up in Central Park,
And a lion-hunter
In the jungle dark,
And a Chinese dentist,
