I’m headed home from a business trip. The hours were long, but the people were friendly, the food amazing, and the views spectacular.
At home, my wife is waiting with a smile. I am a Lucky Man.
I’m being transported on a miracle completely created by the imagination of my fellow men. Down to the last rivet, from the massive body or wings, and the intricate engines propelling us through the sky.
At home, my “children” wait, unaware I’m coming home. They’ll make my welcome better. I am a Lucky Man.
I’m writing this note on a little piece of miracle, completely conjured by the wizardry of my fellow man, listening to music that was recorded in other countries, other decades, some of it purchased through the miracle of the Internet, and some of it from now aging CDs.
At home, my things wait. Things my sweat bought, things my wife’s sweat bought, things our love put together. Things that name us smile, that welcome our friends, that make us happy. I am a Lucky Man.
And as the ground gets closer, I see people living in homes that are not caves, nor trees, nor nature provided miracles, but miracles made by our fellow men. They move around in miracles on wheels. They eat food they don’t need to hunt, and taste flavors not available in nature in such wonderful combinations. We transmit art to homes and theatres and tablets or phones. We send messages half way across the world in a mere instant.
We are Lucky People. We are all Magic. Our simplest smile can brighten someone else’s darkest night. A simple sentence can grant wisdom and steer people to a better life. We are surrounded by Magic at every step. Magic that came from our dreams, hopes, needs.
We are Lucky People.
Writer, Director, Filmmaker