I'm writing on a personal statement. Its a late sunday afternoon. Everything seems calm, as sundays usually are, until a very loud music breaks my consentration. The singers voice pours fado into the street outside, and by the quality, it is very old. A man is singing with the music, and even though he can't sing, I can tell that he loves this music. I look outside. He is the only one with flowers on his balcony. He is reading a book. The sun is shining. The music cuts out all other city sounds. And right then, even though my mind says I'm in year 2010, I am 50 years behind.