My Wonderful World
I understand that not everyone's world is good, and some are very bad, as for the one-third of humanity which lives and dies without ever not being hungry. But my world has been just better than I could have hoped or managed. My original geography, my family DNA, my early childhood crossing with world events, were all so unusual, even startling, that it was as if someone was orchestrating my introduction into this life of collisions of cultures we witness now. We may experience it next door, or by media, or airline, but in any case it is inescapable. To encapsulate it, for my sins I live in Toronto, by far the most cosmopolitan city in the world, if you count the 150+ languages, cultures and religions which flourish and, of course, clash here. I'm not saying all is good, whatever that might mean, but boring it is not. Now, back to me.
I was born at an early age, I understand, and according to all reports, with fairly firm opinions in advance of any direct fresh air evidence of the things about which I held these opinions. We are all born somewhere, among people, and so our first views come with the words and grammar of our parents, relatives, friends, and enemies, and the views of these people we soak up as geese adopt whatever they see as they hatch, whether that is a farmer, a hen, a rock, or a PhD. And so, like yourself, I was pushed out physically, and punched out mentally and physiologically into whatever I was when I began to experience this world, which, I insist, is wonderful.