No matter how powerful the impulse to resist putting it in words is, no matter how vain the claim I am about to make might sound, there is something out there, I just have to say it, that, for whatever reason in the world, seems to be genuinely watching over me. How else can I understand my continuing ability to do what others deem impossible without the slightest harassment from our security apparatus? Or is it simply a matter of time, and I am simply deluding myself in the usual conceit of one who has always been lucky and has always managed to land on his feet in the face of his own folly and, perhaps even, unworthiness?
For all the sake of the people who care for me, not to mention my own sake, let me indulge myself in this moment of superstition (not at all a rare occurrence in my life, no matter what I have to say, or how things might seem), and pray, pray, that my destiny will continue to be that of a perennial fool, albeit a sincere one, that, for whatever reason in the world, will forever go wandering through life always safe, somehow, from the repercussions of his own precious folly. And may this folly of his never hurt anyone.