"Faster cars, bigger houses, better girls." That summed it up so well. Sitting at the the foot of an ancient tower in the descending twilight of a June evening, this sounded profound and yet so very simple. You just can't argue it or deny it. But accepting it, for me, feels like accepting the end of everything that a person can ever stand for. So, waiting for the next splurge is reason enough to live the way we are living? The footnote (if at all there is one) about job satisfaction is possibly the only redemption available.

So we wake up in our swanky apartments, go to work in swanky cars, work for 10 hours a day, get high and happy (if not pissed) on weekends, go on the occasional travel spree and do touristy things, watch the TV serial and do a 10-minute soul-searching on the past relationship, pay our bills and fill the long and short hours of existence.

I heard and saw and felt, but still didn't want to believe. We are good people, my mind kept saying. We are not bad! We love our friends and family and petting the neighbour's poodle! And then, as a confirmation of all that I was dreading, a message reached me from Silicon Valley. The next splurge had happened. That nailed it. This is the truth. The splurge is what matters.

Now, seeing the incessant drizzle against these tall glass windows I wonder if it is possible to make out just one of the droplets on the pane from the million others. Guess it is. It is the one that catches the first ray of the sun and glints with brilliance.

It is never too late to catch the sun. Never too late to glint.