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I don’t recalling saying any real goodbyes in my life. It had always been along the lines of ‘see you next year’, and there was an element of certainty that this would not the last time we meet. We will cross swords again next New Year.


Now that it has transpired that The Accountant will be evaporating on the 23 this month to condense at one of the Big Four firms far far away, there is an uncomfortably large pair of variables lodged in my solar plexus. Where in space-time will our world lines intersect? What if they never intersect again?

Perhaps this is not the time for abstraction.


I wish you the very best. And perhaps, by two miraculous strokes of luck, our world lines will intersect this Chinese New Year.