I always remembered how I loved to see the plain-glass part of the windows in my room distort the images when it rained. The old neighborhood had fame; we were told. Meanwhile, I had to sort things out for my "game plan" at work—profiling the prospective clients. And then, I had to get enough sleep though. I felt like getting up real early in the morning had given me an edge, compared to the other reps. As I arranged the paperwork on my desk, my thoughts drifted to the investment firm. Why was I doing that job, my mind was asking. My family was keen on the investment world. That seemed to be the ready answer in my head. "They did it." I started analyzing my job, as I reclined in my old chair. I was at my job for about a year and half, by then. I could "read" people, I thought. Profiling those prospective investors seemed an easy process to me. And I knew, beforehand, almost the exact percentage that was going to sign up. I was getting close to that "promotion."

Since my job at the firm, my father and I used to talk more about our distant ancestors. And we would wonder about their beliefs. My dad's forefathers were mostly seafarers and such. And my mom's side had sort of similar background, but had some academics among them.

"I wonder if they had discovered any ancient secrets," I used to say to him (my father).

"Possibly, if Maga Günther is any indication," my father would answer, while smoking his pipe. And that would make me contemplate some things, looking at my father through the dance of his tobacco smoke.