Whose cares? In the summer, my friend emerged from his Soviet Union cocoon ready to conquer the world, or at least change his life, but soon in the wind-raspy Fall, school started, and for a while, it was no big deal, but then the busy-work was shoveled on, and the energy it took held no appeal - the spirit to Greet the stranger passing him in the hall, drawing a surprised smile; the strength to start a conversation againt all odds, two humans, without social guile, the barriers And labels dropping away with a whisper - the focus on tat tvam asi - you are that; I just am… I consider you me, I am fearless because we All are licking the same popsicle - Joe Keller, they were all your unlimited sons. As the winter drew near, I saw my friend become burdened, small, without the lightness of Being from Russia, sadder, tenser, loaded with things to do and people to meet and places to be, and his room was one big could-have-been. I climbed upon the steeple of his heart and Cried, Don't let it eat away at you, not prudent, not gonna do it - when will you learn to live clean, for the moment, can't go on preaching it and not believing; he nodded but still was lost in his Blindness, put off into the neverland hang-gliding, his poetry, and checked calmness at the door. Let it go. His head erect, he saw it this time, and out of The spirited kaleidoscope of the future, he selected his path, one with the baby cheeks and dewdrop pleasures and nighthawk walks and bask in the bath of the unhurried alive. Whose cares?                  He is at liberty to read his philosophy at night and play ball in the morning - if he gets his act together, Godspeed - but free to do as he Pleases. My best friend. Me.

Manish Vij