To the ones who love

There’s much to be said about luxury.

For some, it goes with owning, buying, hoarding.
For others it’s paying the highest price for the highest standards.
Possessing the finest of the finest treasures.

(And maybe a desperate desire to feel unique ?
But oh, you already are.
With no glitter.
No money.
No splendor.)

I won’t argue. I can’t argue. Words belong to those who say them and a single one has many meanings.


A friend who says « come over ! » and opens the door to another city and new adventures ? Luxury.

Seeing the sea, smelling its scent, listening to its song under the autumn sun ? Luxury.

Free public libraries, thousands of books, millions of words of wisdom and the freedom to read them for you live in a country that grants you time off ? Luxury.

An appetite for knowledge, tools to open mindedness, free schools and education, knowing your brain’s limits and wanting to push them ? Luxury.

Questioning your past, improving your present and a helping hand or an understanding ear to guide you ? Luxury.

Luxury because they are not vital, not given (life doesn’t owe you) but they make living much better.

I don’t know about shoes, bags, jewelry. I don’t care about cars, private islands or villas. I don’t dream about more, about cash, about perfect. But I sure know how to value the things that I have, ordinary compared to social media’s grandeur. For there was a Before, this is the After, imperfectly perfect, and I’ll celebrate every minute of it.

Life doesn’t owe me, but I owe many things to many people (and to even more books) who make my life better. You know who you are. Thank you.

To the ones who help. To the ones who smile. To the ones who listen. To the ones who love.
You are pure gold.