I don't call myself a cynic, even though many would. I prefer to think of myself as a realist. I don't need comforting fairy tales to face life, its beauty and its cruelty. Reality, however harsh, is enough. I find it more stimulating, more challenging.<br>I remember Sundays spent in church, the muffled sound of the organ, the monotonous prayers, the unbearable weight of hypocrisy. Those empty rituals never touched me; on the contrary, they always left me unsatisfied, with a deep restlessness that I couldn't understand. Then, over time, I understood. It wasn't my own insufficiency, but the very absence of what they were trying to fill me with.<br>Today, my spirituality lies in the beauty of creation, in the complexity of science, in compassion for others. I believe in the intrinsic value of life, in human solidarity, in the power of knowledge. These are my "divinities", the thing that guide me, the sources of my inspiration. I don't need a heaven to hope, nor a hell to fear. I only hav

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