Dubai - The City where Dreams go to Die

Since I touched down in Dubai, a lot has happened. A full 12 weeks of hustle culture that I had last known in Berlin, when I was trying to find a safe place to sleep at night and something to fill my belly before I would rest.


My personal situation is not as dire now, but I am in full hustle mode still, because we are building a compliant diplomatic pipeline for one of our clients that will enable a trade license holder to effectively become a distributor for a sovereign nation. A benefit for the license holder, a benefit for Dubai—a city hungry for gold—and a benefit for the mining entities that are longing to have direct access to the buyers that normally hide behind a wall of buffer companies, proxies, and mandates.


When I listen to my inner voice, I can hear the yearning for the time at which my main job will be to send money to people that want to build, mine, distribute, transport, and produce. For too long have I encountered the effects of systemic poverty, cultural racism, and a lack of knowledge of self and the counterpart.


This journey has been full of lessons and experiences that are hard to put into words. It's not hope that drives me—it's determination and the knowledge that whatever I do is written down and will either benefit me in the hereafter or come to haunt me. So my energy goes into making sure my intentions are pure and I move with attention to detail.