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When I was 18, I played piano at a jazz club in Studio City. One night around midnight,
a man with a long upturned waxed mustache approached me during my break.
He said his name was Salvador, and he handed me a napkin with a portrait of myself, which is displayed on this webpage.
I doubt that he was the real Savaldor Dali, but his drawing was very cool, and I still remember what he said to me:
"Every morning when I wake up, I experience an exquisite joy; the joy of being myself."
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DanSchmidt.net
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