They say only the rich claim money doesn’t bring happiness. Happiness, I knew, had very little to do with the size of a bank account.
As a child, I’d lived in comfort once, in a house where vacations abroad were routine and luxury was taken for granted.
But later, I’d also lived through nights when I split a packet of instant noodles into two meals, stretching every bite as if it were gold.
Strangely, I’d been freer and happier with those noodles than with all the cocktails I once sipped on a resort terrace.
