Last night I went to see a play by one of my favourite playwrights, Eugen Ionescu.

Needless to say, the performance was excellent, as expected – I am fascinated by the theatre of the absurd and this was brilliantly illustrated all the more since we are talking about the absurdity of death and man’s coping with it.

What touched me more though was the main character’s modesty when giving a speech at the end of the performance – we found out that he happened to celebrate his 85th anniversary that day and that he didn’t mind playing, because he loved the play, the director and his fellow actors. He considered this to be his gift for his birthday. Now that is what I call a real passion for something.

I have never assisted to a moment like this before, and I found it very meaningful and true – I will certainly remember it for some time to come.

If I were to be grateful for something yesterday, it would be this precise moment.