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“So our meeting here is fate? asks the old man.
“Maybe,” says Janosch. And maybe it’s just bad luck. I’m sixteen years old. Life goes on, And on. And I don’t want people who are farther along telling me how the whole thing goes. I had to get through the last sixteen years without you and I’ll probably have to get through the next sixty-five years, god willing, without you as well. So just leave me alone. It’s great that you can sing the song of life, so go take it to an old-age home and teach it to the residents! They’d be thrilled! But leave me to get on with it too. Everything’s bad enough as it is. We’ve just run away from boarding school. And I think we’re going to need what’s left of our youth. Go peddle your crappy song somewhere else!” Janosch’s eyes are slits. He’s really mad.
 
… And sometimes, it’s best not to know the song of life. Yet again, Janosch says it like it is. Youth is about discovery; it’s about occasionally hitting the wrong note, making mistakes. And there is no such rule that there is only ‘one’ song of life. Everyone makes their own song, dances to their own tune. Janosch’s frustration is totally understandable. Sometimes all a teenager ever does is fight against other people’s songs; where life is one big fight to find what is right for you.
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