As we know from one iconic book, “42” is the answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe, and everything.
I am spending my 42nd birthday under arrest, and I find myself wondering how to interpret that.
Perhaps they locked me up here so I would never learn the answer to the ultimate question of the universe. Or perhaps, on the contrary, providence has cast me into just the right point in space, where the truth will reveal itself and I will be able to reflect on it calmly, in peace and quiet. So far, nothing is clear, but maybe by dinner it will make more sense (especially if they serve makarony po-flotski — Russian-style navy pasta).
Be that as it may, on my birthday the first thing I always want to do is thank all the good people I have met in such great numbers along the way in life. And even here, in this special detention center, there are plenty of them.
Thank you.