I can admit one thing that probably I should avoid mentioning as there is nothing to brag about: I tend to go Brussels for a variety of events organized by the European Parliament or the European Commission perhaps more often than I visit my octogenarian parents (they are still quite agile and spry, thank God!) in southern Lithuania, nearly 300 kilometres from where I live on the coast.
I am not going to delve here into a discussion about what makes a good son (and parents too!), but with the frequency of the Brussels-bound trips and the visits of my begetters bein...
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