WELCOME TO PARADISE Mahi Binebine Granta Books, copyright 2003 p. 75 Mr. Romanchef kept me back after class for a little chat. I could tell by the tone of his voice that my status had changed from clever young peasant boy to the deeply gratifying one of adult, possessor of a certificate of secondary education. Mr. Romanchef was so proud; it hadn’t been easy for him either, back home in Romania. He’d had to fight hard to go to university and leave his oppressed country. He promised to help me. The good Lord, he said, always gives opportunities to those who wish for them and who cling to their dreams, however inaccessible or irrational they may be. Because the truth is, dreams fade at low altitudes. They need space, blue sky, infinity. So if you hang on to them, you’ll end up being carried along in their wake, up high, into skies of freedom. Of course life’s hardships are the enemies of dreams, they never stop trying to capture them, weigh them down, clip their wings. But a dream you keep prisoner in your head for too long will fade and die as well. What could be more depressing than a dream dragging itself off to the cemetery of helplessness? Admittedly, dreams don’t belong to anyone, they don’t need anyone. But they’ll go a little way with whoever courts them, and is persistent. Don’t ever kill them. . .