I am writing these lines in a Parisian café. It is summer but the weather is gloomy. The busy street is filled with shops selling all the goods that Western consumer culture can offer. It is the sales period and the discount percentages are highlighted with bright colors on the shop windows. Despite the hectic movement there is a feeling of emptiness and the heart yearns for more. Why have I come here? I had hoped to find the needed inspiration for writing this book, but now the notorious Parisian spleen is taking over.