Gold encrusted pearls, sweet rainbow, treasures all around me...
First try to figure out what being rich means?
a) amount of cash big enough that you have serious problem to spell the figure correctly
b) property so big that tax people are getting multiple orgasms by just thinking about taxing it
c) more expensive cars in your stable that neighbor can afford
d) credit card so black, that you can buy happiness with it
This one is really simple. All answers are correct. Every idiot knows this. Stress in the last sentence is on a second word.
Many tried this way. Many are trying right now.
Rate of success: zero.
Somehow it just doesn't work.
Am I disgusted by money, by property? Am I the leading guru of the “Poverty Is My Heaven” cult?
I am not working for peanuts.
But I do not tend to salivate over accumulated euros, dollars...
They make my days comfortable.
I can take you for the best “kremschnitte”, without worrying if I will have to wash dishes as I can not pay the bill.
But there is no price tag on sparks in your eyes and heart. If I'm really rich I can turn them on. And your smile. And your...
Being rich (or for that matter happy, sad, troubled, miserable, ecstatic...) is not a number.
It's a state of mind.
When I don't crave for something out of my reach but I am full of cravings for what I have.
Good, old music; trusted books; cats ruling the Winter Castle; biting your shoulder; walks that lead to destinations or to no destination; pasta with basilica sauce; laces and ...; switched off plasma TV; burning logs telling their tales...