I always wonder where connection comes from. As for the kind of connection I have with you, I figure out it has something to do about words. So I come back to where I first met you, where I first talked to you, where I first got to know you—your words. It is more about the way you write than what you write that I have come to think that you are truly promising. For strange reasons, I have come to like having you around even for a chat, an exchange of ironies, a cup of coffee, a random walk, a senseless thread. This connection started when I discovered that you write with your heart even if blood drips from it. I discovered our connection here. You come to like I were your mother and you were my child, but it would be cruel to say that you might be the daughter I never have because I do have a wonderful daughter, and you do have a great mom. On the other hand, you are my special born, a child conceived from a connection of words that spell realities about life and love. I am really glad I can talk to you and you can talk to me. May this connection lead to more long walks, more coffee breaks and more sentence completions. Happy Birthday, my Maki. I could not think of a fitting gift for your Sweet Sixteen than this, but of course, there will always be a nice coffee treat if we have time to spare. Love you.