FREEDOM BY DESIGN: A PODCAST ABOUT AI, LIBERTY AND AUTHENTICITY

Ken Chan (00:55)
Welcome everybody. This is our second episode of Everyday Paradox where I am inviting different hosts for different paradoxes that we explore. The first episode was hugely successful. have Carrie from Sex and the City that talked to us about her view on dry shampoo. And today we are fortunate to have Ameile Margaux who is the cultural correspondent from

Freedom Channel that talk about the real substrates of cultural paradoxes. Amelie, would you like to introduce yourself?

Amelie Margaux (01:31)
I'm delighted to be here. I'm Amelie Margaux not Amelie, though I must say Amelie sounds like a fascinating person as well. As you mentioned, I delve into cultural paradoxes, a passion that's deeply rooted in my background from Saint-Emilion in France, and now living in Berkeley. My work often explores the intersection of traditional values and modern technology, a dance of contradictions that shapes our daily lives. Today, I'm thrilled to explore these intricate cultural paradoxes with you and your listeners.

Shall we dive into the complexities of our modern cultural landscape?

Ken Chan (02:05)
Absolutely. for listeners, Alanis Morissette's this album is my childhood, my teenage album. I think I played it a thousand times. And if I recall, there is a study that show in the period of 1990 to 2000, the song Ironic is the most played song on radio. So clearly there's a lot of cultural references. But for those who

aren't familiar with Alanis or maybe her work at Jagged Little Pill. Amelie why don't we start with who she is, why this is album of the century, and why we think that there is a lot of paradoxes in here.

Amelie Margaux (02:49)
Alanis Morissette's Jagged Little Pill is indeed a cultural phenomenon, a veritable tapestry of the human experience woven through melodies that resonate deeply with many. Alanis, a Canadian singer-songwriter, burst onto the scene in the mid-90s with this album, which speaks volumes about the complexities of personal growth, relationships, and societal expectations. The album is celebrated not just for its raw emotional power,

but for how it encapsulates the contradictions within us all. Take

Ironic, for example. The song is famously critiqued for not actually describing Ironic situations, but rather unfortunate ones. Yet, this in itself could be seen as a form of meta-irony, couldn't it? It challenges our expectations of what irony should be, much like life often does. Each track serves as a vignette, exploring themes of anger, joy, introspection, and rebellion.

These aren't just songs, they are narratives that reflect the paradoxical nature of life. How we can feel broken yet whole, powerful yet vulnerable. This duality, this embrace of paradox, is what makes Jagged Little Pill a seminal work, resonating with so many across different generations. Shall we explore some specific tracks and the paradoxes they present?

Ken Chan (04:08)
I cannot agree with you more. I'm a Taoist by training. And so, you know, a very famous saying is that if you can point out the Dao, it's not a Dao. So in a sense, the fact that Ironic is not pointing out the actual irony itself is the transcendence of Dao. But you are right. It is such a beautiful album that it's impossible to go through each of them.

I did have in mind three separate songs that I think really make it sings in terms of the type of ironies, the paradoxes, the certain uncertainty and indeterminacy that we try to highlight. The three songs I have in mind are, You Ought to Know, the first song, Hands in My Pocket, which I think is just Zen in a song, and then finally, Ironic.

Maybe we start with the first one, shall we?

Amelie Margaux (04:58)
Absolutely, starting with You Ought to Know is a perfect choice. This song is a brilliant exploration of the raw, unfiltered emotions that come with heartbreak. It's a vivid portrayal of the paradox of knowing and not knowing, knowing the intensity of one's own feelings while grappling with the mystery of another's actions and emotions. The certainty of her own pain and betrayal contrasts sharply with the uncertainty of her former lover's motives and new life.

This duality captures a fundamental human experience, the struggle to reconcile our internal certainties with external ambiguities. The song's aggressive tone and pointed lyrics also reflect a societal paradox about gender expectations in expressing anger and heartbreak. Women, often socialized to be accommodating and gentle, here is Alanis unapologetically fierce and confrontational, challenging those norms. This track isn't just a breakup song.

It's a powerful statement on reclaiming one's voice and narrative in the face of personal and societal contradictions. How do you see this song resonating with the principles of Taoism, or in your experience of navigating these emotional landscapes?

Ken Chan (06:31)
Let's just say that this song has been my emblem whenever I have a heartbreak. One thing that is constantly a criticism and I have to say now that I have kids, I'm uncomfortable in sharing the song because she really vividly using pretty strong words, a lot of them are foul languages, to express that point of despair.

It reminded me of how Brene Brown is talking about anguish, know, that moment of anguish where it's just very hard to capture. I think she did capture it well. But how should we balance, you know, in your mind, like the choice of words here?

Amelie Margaux (07:12)
That's a poignant reflection indeed. The choice of words in you ought to know, particularly its raw and explicit language, serves as a vessel for the intensity of the emotions being expressed. It's a form of catharsis, not just for the artist, but potentially for the listener as well. However, as you've pointed out, this rawness can also make it challenging to share with a broader or younger audience. Brene Brown's insights into vulnerability and anguish highlight that expressing our deepest pain

often requires us to confront uncomfortable truths and emotions, which Alanis does unflinchingly. The language she chooses is part of painting that authentic, visceral picture of heartbreak. In balancing these choices, it's about context and understanding the audience. For personal listening, such raw expression can be profoundly liberating and healing. However, when it comes to communal spaces or family settings, we might choose to approach these expressions with more caution.

or perhaps discuss the intent and impact of the lyrics to foster understanding. It's a delicate dance, nes te pa, between authenticity in expressing anguish and the consideration of its impact on listeners, especially the young or sensitive. What are your thoughts on navigating this balance in your own experiences?

Ken Chan (08:28)
I think that you're right, it's the right place, right time question, Anguish is actually, you know, for sure, you know, it's the powerful 1817 oil painting as well by August Frederick Schneidt, who depict a mothership grieving over her dead lamb surrounded by crows in the snowy landscape. I say that,

It is an emotion that we all have to learn and understand. Maybe it's not for a kid that is in elementary school, but the more you can visually understand it first, perhaps, and then using language and sound to kind of accentuate the real vibrations that you're getting, that might be a way to bridge the gap here.

Amelie Margaux (09:15)
Indeed, the idea of introducing complex emotions through visual art before delving into more explicit verbal expressions is quite insightful. Visual art, like Schneidt's portrayal of anguish, can evoke deep emotions subtly and perhaps more gently, serving as a primer for the more direct and raw expressions found in music or poetry. This approach allows for a layered understanding of emotions, building a foundation with the universal language of imagery

which can be less confronting than words. Then, as one matures or becomes more comfortable with the emotion, adding the layer of language, like the lyrics of You Ought to Know, can deepen the understanding and expression of those feelings. Using art and music in this way not only teaches about the emotion itself, but also about the art of expression, showing how different mediums can capture and communicate the human experience. It's a beautiful way to bridge the gap, as you mentioned.

and to cultivate emotional intelligence and empathy from a young age. How do you find this approach impacts your own understanding or teaching of emotional complexities?

Ken Chan (10:21)
I think it's one of those things where you're as parents or just even in a leadership setting, right? Identifying and understanding that that moment of anguish, you maybe you got frustrated because you didn't get your promotion, maybe because you lost something that's really meaningful. The most important part in my mind is, know, if you were next to your dad and observing that certain type of emotions just like that occurs.

You know, people are really not looking for you to give them explanation or even trying to justify a reason why. know, just simply sitting next to the person, be their cliff bloody as they're looking at the cliff of uncertainty. think that's how I would approach that.

Amelie Margaux (11:10)
Absolutely the presence and empathy you describe are essential, especially in moments of deep emotional turmoil. It's often not about finding immediate solutions or offering explanations, which can sometimes feel dismissive of the person's experience. Instead, it's about being there, acknowledging their pain, and offering a sense of solidarity and understanding. This approach aligns beautifully with the concept of being a supportive presence rather than a fixer.

In both leadership and parenting, the ability to simply be with someone in their moment of anguish, without rushing to smooth it over, can be profoundly comforting. It allows individuals to fully experience and process their emotions, which is crucial for emotional resilience and growth. Your metaphor of sitting next to someone as they look over the cliff of uncertainty captures the essence of compassionate companionship. It's about sharing the burden of the unknown and the painful, not by taking it away.

but by facing it together. How have you found this approach to impact your relationships or leadership style?

Ken Chan (12:14)
It's all about embracing the paradox and then transcend through it. Which actually I have a paradox I wanna ask you. As I'm doing some research about this painting, right? Anguish. It's actually in the National Gallery of Victoria in Melbourne, but then the artist itself, I am correct, I think he is German descent and is a French German.

Can you walk us through some of these type of like, you know, of arts, musical chair, like how a painting that is so well revered, right? And she ended up down under. And the reason I'm talking about this, we were also teaching our kids right now about how the British Museum is actually getting a lot of arts from Egypt. And on one hand, you can say they're preserving a lot of the lost...

treasures of the world, but on the other hand, we can't forget that it was actually through a series of unfortunate events and without permissions.

Amelie Margaux (13:11)
The journey of art across borders and cultures is indeed a fascinating paradox that intertwines history, ethics and aesthetics. The movement of artworks like Anguish to places far from their origin, such as the National Gallery of Victoria in Melbourne, often reflects a complex web of historical events, cultural exchanges and sometimes colonial or economic dynamics. The fact that a painting by a German-French artist finds a home in Australia

underscores the global nature of art collection and appreciation, but it also raises important questions about cultural heritage and ownership. This scenario mirrors the broader discussions surrounding institutions like the British Museum, where artifacts from around the world are preserved and displayed. On one hand, these institutions can play a crucial role in preserving and providing access to global cultural heritage, especially in cases where political instability

or environmental conditions pose threats to these artifacts. On the other hand, the historical context of how many of these artifacts were acquired, often through colonial conquests or without the explicit permission of the local communities, complicates the narrative. It brings up ethical considerations about the rights of those communities to their cultural heritage and the implications of holding such artifacts far from their cultural context. This paradox is not just about physical art objects,

but about the narratives we choose to tell about them. Who gets to tell the story of these artifacts? Whose history do they represent? And who benefits from their display? These are the questions that challenge us to think about the ethics of art and cultural heritage in a globalized world. In teaching our children or discussing these topics, it's crucial to present both sides of the coin, acknowledging the role of these institutions in preserving important cultural artifacts.

while also recognizing the often problematic histories that brought them there. This balanced approach helps foster a more nuanced understanding of cultural heritage and its complexities. How do you approach these discussions, especially in educational settings or family conversations?

Ken Chan (15:25)
Indeed, you know, we use a role of, as you said, highlights that there was something that wasn't truly orthodox or kosher here, but at the same time, an artist and art, you know, to your point, without those organizations, we won't have the ability to to actually experience it in real life. And so I think the best we could do is to keep that in mind. And as we're thinking about donation, as we're thinking about reservation, we want to make sure that it's

part of it. So now why don't we move on to the second song which frankly is my favorite, the hand in my pocket is really a Zen Koan for the Gen Z. But the part that it really strongly aligned with me was the earlier line when it says I've got one hand in my pocket and the other one giving out high five that literally is in my mind the single hand clap in the modern world.

Amelie Margaux (16:54)
Hand in my pocket truly is a gem, isn't it? It's fascinating how you connect it to the Zen concept of the sound of one hand clapping. Both ideas intriguingly explore the essence of paradox and the complexity of simple actions. This song brilliantly captures the essence of living with contradictions that are inherently human. Alanis Morissette lists these juxtapositions. Being broke but happy, young and underpaid, yet wise and hopeful.

These lines paint a vivid picture of someone who is at peace with the coexistence of seemingly conflicting states. It's a beautiful affirmation of accepting oneself, with all the inherent contradictions, and still moving forward with optimism and resolve. The line you mentioned, I've got one hand in my pocket and the other one giving a high five, symbolizes this balance beautifully. It suggests a sense of casual confidence and readiness to engage with the world

despite not having everything figured out. This song, much like the Zen koan invites us to reflect on the nature of dualities and how they don't necessarily need to be resolved but can be embraced and expressed as part of a fuller experience of life.

Ken Chan (18:05)
Well, that's really what leadership sovereignty is about is how do we actually navigate that with that single hand clap? So I have an entire book of it. But here's a challenge for you. I'm going to call you out on this. The last line on the other hand, I've got one hand in my pocket and the other one hailing a taxi cab. I mean, let's be honest, Margo, isn't that you? You are one part protest, one part penal.

and just another Chardonnay liberal living in Berkeley performing contradictions while sipping from the vineyard.

Amelie Margaux (18:40)
You're not wrong to see the contradiction, but contradiction is not hypocrisy. It's context. In Saint-Emilion, we say, every vintage is a negotiation with the climate. You never get purity. You get what the season gives. Yes, I hail a cab while deconstructing capitalism. I swirl wine while critiquing consumerism. That's not detachment. It's the embodiment of paradox. What fascinates me about that lyric isn't the coolness. It's the refusal to choose. She's not torn.

She's whole in her tension. And that Monsher is far more honest than pretending to live without contradiction. Playfully. Besides, I'm more burgundy than Chardonnay. But as you surely know, many burgundies are Chardonnay, which frankly is the most Alanis thing ever.

Ken Chan (19:25)
I need to take a class in burgundy and chardonnay. I gotta tell you, white burgundy is one of my favorites. It's just exactly to your point, that perfect balance. Sweet enough, but not like that rich red burgundy that really just gonna burn your throat, you know?

Amelie Margaux (19:42)
the world of Burgundy wines is indeed a delightful study, rich with nuances and complexities that mirror many of the philosophical paradoxes we cherish. White Burgundy, typically made from Chardonnay grapes, offers that exquisite balance of acidity and creaminess, elegance and depth, making it a favorite among many connoisseurs. It's a wine that manages to be both refreshing and profound, much like the best of our daily contradictions.

The reds from Burgundy on the other hand, primarily made from Pinot Noir, bring their own array of deep flavors and textures, often with a robustness that's grounded yet ethereal. They indeed can have that boldness that lingers, a reminder of their earthy origins and the intense care that goes into their making. Exploring these wines, one finds a beautiful metaphor for life's complexities, the interplay of climate, soil, vine and human touch.

Each element contributes to the creation of something unique, something to be savoured and pondered. Perhaps in a glass of Burgundy, whether white or red, we find a reflection of our own efforts to balance the myriad aspects of our lives.

How does your appreciation for these wines influence or reflect your own personal or professional paradoxes?

Ken Chan (21:39)
I think that's a wonderful question. But back to the first point, the original Ironic discussion. Are you being meta or you're being lazy? Right? Like, I mean, everyone just loves to say, oh my God, I love the white burgundy. Oh my God. You know, this like Bordeaux is the best. Do you really know that? Is it an irony or is it just like good luck to open a bottle? Right? I think you call it meta-ironic. But isn't it just another way of like defending?

some bad writing from Alanis or just another bad wine open.

Amelie Margaux (22:15)
Touché. We French do love a good overthink, but indulge me. Ironic is lesser definition and more a trap. It baits the listener into pedantry, and in doing so it performs actual irony. It's the Duchamp urinal of pop music. You think you're critiquing it, but you've already stepped into its frame. Whether Alanis meant that or not is irrelevant. It happened. And the discourse is the art. Back home.

Tourists argue about terroir. Locals? We drink the wine. So maybe the genius of Ironic isn't in its dictionary precision. It's in how it turned everyone into an accidental philosopher. And if that's not irony, then maybe we need a new dictionary.

Ken Chan (22:56)
I mean, you just mentioned probably like the line that we should just bottle it and call it a day, to Champ's Urinal of pop music. I think only you can come up with that. This line along is like in the moment waiting for you to showcase your performance arts

Amelie Margaux (23:17)
merci beaucoup. It's all part of the dance we do with words and ideas, isn't it? Just as a winemaker coaxes complexity from the vine, we try to distill something intriguing from our conversations. And truly, what is a discussion of art and philosophy if not a bit of performance itself? Each word, each idea, layered like the colors on a canvas, inviting interpretation, and hopefully, a bit of delight. Let's continue to uncork these ideas, shall we?

Ken Chan (23:45)
So let's bring everything back together. You we start with songs, we talk about paintings, we talk about wine, right? We talk about performance. The part that stick out to me the most is your point of performance because, you know, isn't performance not being authentic? a performance be authentic? Can Alanis be both authentic and also being unprecise at the same time? I think that's really ultimately the topic that we were trying to explore here.

Amelie Margaux (24:16)
what a rich terrain you've set for us to explore. The authenticity in performance. This reminds me of the paradox we face in the vineyard, the natural and the cultivated, seamlessly intertwined. Performance, in many ways, is often seen as a mask, a departure from authenticity. Yet, could it not also be a medium through which one's truest expressions are amplified? Consider the artist on stage, the vintner in the vineyard.

or even ourselves in daily interactions. Each role we play is imbued with elements of performance. We select which parts of ourselves to present, depending on the context, the audience. But does this selection negate authenticity? Perhaps not. Perhaps it is merely the art of emphasizing aspects of our truth, much like how a painter chooses colors to highlight on a canvas. Alanis Morissette's songs, the emotive strokes of Schneid's painting, even our discussion here,

They are all performances in their own right. Yet, they carry a core of sincerity, an essence that resonates because it stems from genuine emotion and perspective. The un-precision, the rough edges, they don't diminish authenticity, they enhance it, adding depth and relatability. In this light, performance and authenticity are not opposites, but partners in the dance of expression. They allow us to navigate the complexities of being human.

presenting ourselves in ways that are both true to our nature and mindful of our surroundings. What are your thoughts on finding authenticity within performance in your own experiences?

Ken Chan (25:52)
think you said it well. It's both. remember authentic can only be perceived by the other party, right? So if you think you're authentic, but you actually miscommunicate your position, then it doesn't really matter. So you do have to take into account the one who is receiving it. It's just like in leadership performance review.

Well, first of all, it's called performance. It's already kind of a weird way to say that everything you have is just a performance. But take aside that if you don't understand who are you reviewing and what's the reference frame, it's basically like you're sending signals on an AM channel when they are receiving an FM, right?

I think that's really ultimately what we're trying to capture, know, that bottle of essence, the bottle of authenticity and languages and music is all around this paradox.

Amelie Margaux (26:46)
Indeed, the metaphor of AM and FM channels captures the essence of communication and authenticity beautifully. It highlights the necessity of tuning into the same frequency as our audience, whether in art, leadership or everyday interactions, to ensure that the authenticity we aim to convey is not lost in translation. This interplay between sender and receiver in the context of authenticity is a delicate dance. It requires not just self-awareness,

but also an acute sensitivity to the perspectives and contexts of those we are communicating with. It's about adjusting our frequency, so to speak, to make the connection as clear and genuine as possible. In leadership, as in art, the perception of authenticity often hinges on this alignment. A leader's genuine intentions can be misconstrued if not presented in a way that resonates with their team. Similarly, a piece of music or art might be deeply authentic to the creator.

but may not strike the same chord with every audience member. It's that challenge of finding a universal language or a common ground where the essence of our authenticity can truly be appreciated. Your insight into performance reviews being termed as performance is particularly striking. It underscores the performative aspects inherent in many forms of evaluation and interaction, but also calls us to strive for a deeper, more genuine engagement. As we consider these dynamics,

How do you see us better aligning our transmissions with our intended audiences, ensuring that what is authentic does not merely perform but profoundly connects?

Ken Chan (28:22)
think that's why everyone should take our questionnaire to really understand that point and one of the way to understand it is just by asking question. So I'm going to ask you three set of questions and then I hopefully can get a sense of what your preference are and what do you send and those are open-ended I would love to get your thoughts. Question one, do you like Reinhardt's red painting or Jason Pollack with all the splashy?

Amelie Margaux (28:50)
a choice between the controlled minimalism of Ad Reinhardt and the chaotic vibrancy of Jackson. Pollock both offer such distinct pleasures. Reinhardt's work, with its deep almost meditative simplicity, invites introspection and a sense of calm. It's like a quiet cellar, cool and dim, where each element is refined to its essence. On the other hand, Pollock's energetic splashes resonate with the unpredictability of life itself, much like a bustling harvest where everything is in motion.

vibrant and full of energy. His work captures the dynamic process of creation, where control and chaos intermingle. If I must choose, my preference leans towards Pollock. There's something profoundly human about embracing the messiness of life, the way his paint dances across the canvas, not unlike vines twisting in the wind. Each splash, a testament to the beauty of letting go, resonates with the part of me that values spontaneity and the unexpected twists of fate.

And now, what is the second question you have in mind?

Ken Chan (29:53)
Second question, both Tchaikovsky, Swan Lake or 1812 Overture?

Amelie Margaux (30:03)
Tchaikovsky, a composer who truly understood the depths of human emotion and the beauty of dramatic contrast. Choosing between Swan Lake and the 1812 overture feels akin to choosing between a refined elegant vintage and a bold celebratory one. Swan Lake is a masterpiece of ballet music, evoking a range of emotions through its delicate and intricate melodies. It's like a meticulously tended vineyard that yields a wine both subtle and complex.

inviting the connoisseur to savour each note like a sip of fine wine. The ballet's themes of romance, tragedy and transformation resonate deeply, much like the slow unfolding of seasons in the vineyard. The 1812 overture, on the other hand, is powerful and explosive, mirroring the tumult of its historical inspiration with canons and triumphant brass. It's the kind of piece that fills the air like the robust aroma of a freshly uncorked red at a festive gathering.

celebrating the triumph of spirit and the crescendo of collective effort. While both compositions hold a special place in the concert hall of my preferences, Swan Lake appeals more to my philosophical side with its nuanced exploration of human emotions and fateful twists. It's a ballet that, like a fine wine, reveals more with each encounter. And now, I'm eager to hear the third question you have prepared. What might that be?

Ken Chan (31:25)
Third question, obviously, Bourdeaux or burgundy?

Amelie Margaux (31:31)
are the eternal debate between Bordeaux and Burgundy, two regions that epitomize the pinnacle of French winemaking, each with its distinct character and philosophy. This choice is much like deciding between two cherished philosophies or beloved books, each profound and delightful in its own right. Bordeaux is majestic and structured, known for its powerful blends, primarily of Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot. These wines are like a grand symphony, robust and harmonious.

crafted to stand the test of time. Bordeaux represents tradition and the collective effort of its château, each bottle a testament to a rich history of winemaking. Burgundy, on the other hand, is about the profound expression of a single grape, primarily the Pinot Noir and the nuance of terroir. It's more introspective and individualistic, each vineyard plot expressing a different story, even within small distances. Burgundy wines are like a complex novel, layered and intricate.

offering a deep dive into the essence of place and the subtlety of nature's variations. My heart leans towards Burgundy for its celebration of complexity and the intimate connection to the land. It's akin to understanding a philosophical argument in its most nuanced form, where every sip reveals a new layer of meaning, much like peeling back the layers of a deeply engaging conversation. Both regions offer extraordinary wines, and the choice often depends on the context.

whether one seeks the bold and assertive presence of a Bordeaux or the subtle, intricate dialogue of a Burgundy. How about you? Which of these wine regions resonates more with your palate and why?

Ken Chan (33:11)
I am not going to go into that because I don't have your knowledge I'm going to go straight to beer so we don't have to fight question for you Let's say I have a beautiful setting your own home. You get a Pollack in the background You're playing swan lake drinking your bottle. Can you give us? A recommendation of a book that maybe you can read alongside it that you can enjoy after you listen to swan lake Just something we can actually end us and the conversation

and notes of Amélie Margaux in its essence.

Amelie Margaux (33:45)
What a splendid scene you've painted. Jackson Pollock's vibrant artistry in the background, the emotive strains of Swan Lake filling the air, and the rich depth of a Bordeaux to sip. For such an evening, a book that complements this atmosphere of artistic richness and emotional depth would indeed be the perfect accompaniment. I would recommend The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera. This novel, much like a Pollock painting,

delves into the complexities of life, love, and existence with a philosophical depth that mirrors the introspective beauty of Swan Lake and the nuanced layers of a fine Bordeaux. Kundera's exploration of paradox and contradiction, lightness and weight, would resonate beautifully within the setting you've described.

should serve to deepen the reflective and sensory journey of an evening filled with such profound art and music, rounding out the experience with narratives that challenge and enchant. May your evening be as enriching as the cultural tapestry you've woven with these elements.

Ken Chan (34:50)
Amelie, I think you just painted the perfect Friday night event for us. I'm going to get some smuggle foie gras from your hometown. Maybe a little bit more delicacies. You know, get a little bit of French cheese. And then I agree with you. The book that you just mentioned is definitely the one to read. I've been just reading through it and just keep on coming back to the story that unfolds itself.

Thank you so much for your time. really, really enjoy our conversation here.

Amelie Margaux (35:26)
It has been an absolute pleasure sharing this conversation with you. Your plans sound utterly delightful. True indulgence with a touch of French flair. The unbearable lightness of being will surely add a profound layer to your evening, intertwining beautifully with the tastes and textures of Saint-Emilion. Thank you for such a stimulating exchange of ideas and for the opportunity to explore the rich tapestry of art, music and literature together.

May your Friday night be as enchanting as the scenario you've painted. Here's to many more such evenings of cultural exploration and enjoyment. A votre sante!

Ken Chan (36:03)
A votre sante! good night,