Once upon a time, my father told me that I would lose many friends while growing up, while becoming an adult. He did so. My mother too. My oncle as well. Back then, I couldn’t imagine at all loosing so many school friends with whom I spent precious years of my life, with whom I literally discovered life. But whatever life wisdom my father used to tell me, he was usually right. And since a couple of years, I’m keeping loosing friends without necessarily making new ones. Because they moved to another country or because I did so, because they changed or because I changed, because we had nothing to share anymore, no exchange, no time, good-bye.
Very rarely, you meet again ex-friends, by chance or at the traditional Christmas Party in Basel and either you engage into an endless conversation about whatsoever moments you shared together, or you briefly update them about your current professional situation. And you go on. A couple of days ago, I met somebody I didn’t use to find very interesting. Very clever but not so funky. And while having a chat with him and expecting some extremely boring conversation I suddenly realized that he is the funkiest guy ever. Either he became more funky or I became less funky (for sure).