Dear Rich, 

I hope that the odds of the social networks be in my favor so that this post finds you.

I also hope that it finds you and your family well, whether in France, Cambodia or LA. 

I am not sure you remember me; we’ve had a small talk while waiting for our burger king meals in the transit lounge of Istanbul Ataturk airport about a month ago. 

Your words rustle in my memory, they wind through my mind and echo in my ears.

You told me love is a religion and I saw this incarnated in a grey-haired, hunch-backed old man who is drooling as he pushes his wheel-chaired wife in the busy Oxford street.

Back home, I wish people had this kind of a free mindset. You’ve been barefoot for almost two years. “I am a free man,” you said. All I see around here is how people do things they don’t like to maintain social relevancy. I see people let go of their passion; they let their passion degrade a bit more until it grows fainter because they know that society will eventually mediocre them down. I see people cannot even chase questions important to them because of the fear of being judged.

Dear Rich, your name parallels your vivid soul, rich of life and vibrant with energy.

Dear Rich, keep inspiring whoever you meet while wandering around the Earth barefoot.

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