Race and podium.

Once, when I was young, I got into a race car called ” Career “(“Business”,” Fame”, whatever you want to call it).

My dream was to beat everyone else, to be the best, to rise to the podium, to appear on the covers of magazines, to live in the best city in the world, to enjoy life.

Now my life is in the twilight, and I realize that I spent most of it inside my race car. I have spent my best years and my best strength on it, and I have grown old, gray, and stooped in it.

And now I crawl out of it on a pedestal (to be honest, not even the highest in the world) and look around. Next to me on the podium are mostly old people who can no longer enjoy fame, wealth and power. And down there, in a cloud of dust, I see hundreds of young guys clinging to the steering wheels of their racing cars and pressing the gas pedal to the stop. They go round and round, trying to get ahead of each other, and neither of them will stop even for a minute to go to the podium, even if not to the top step, sit down, relax, look around, talk to his wife, play with the children. No, they’re not up to it right now. They are passionate about the race. Well, I’m waiting for you all here, guys, old, tired and indifferent.