Tomatoes, tomatoes. The chosen food. This is the one that helps against seasonal affective disorder. I could take the easy route, go for dark chocolate, but that’s just too much, and it’s not easy on the constitution like tomatoes. I’ve also got some cranberries, some mushrooms, some avocados in the mix. I saw my friend Mart at Selver, told him that avocado was the Aztec word for testicle. It’s a fertility food. Maybe not a good idea for him or me (we have so many children). “Don’t you know, Estonians use garlic for that,” he said, bifocals on. My life is still so tuuline, windy, and he — someone who knows — said it won’t ever go away, but might congeal into a scar. Elu läheb edasi. Life goes on. This stuff, the murky skies, the residual hirm, the stiff, almost sensei-like demeanor of the Estonians, it’s like nine chains dragging me down. Apparently them too. All across this nation, nothing is more elusive than inner peace and self improvement. Yoga classes and tantra lessons blossom up like mushrooms. They say I should go too. Let a bunch of Estonians touch me there. Costs money though. Maybe it’s worth it though. The wonderful sensation of being touched.