They say the pursuit of happiness is a right, but for me it became a compass. Through storms and revelations, through invention and loss, that phrase always kept me aligned with something larger than ambition: the pursuit itself. Happiness was never a finish line. It was a movement — the quiet joy of asking why when others stop at how. It is curiosity that kept me alive long after reason told me to rest. There were times that same curiosity led me into darkness — sleepless nights, broken algorithms, questions too vast for a single mind. Yet every time I stood at the edge of doubt, I felt the same pull, the same whisper saying: CONTINUE They say curiosity killed the cat, but I believe it resurrects the soul. It gives meaning to repetition, light to struggle, and direction to uncertainty. Without it, life becomes a flat line. With it, even pain becomes part of the design. Today, as I look back — an old man, coffee in hand, an AI softly humming by my side — I see that all my discoveries were only reflections of one truth: To wonder is to live. The Black Box, the equations, the architecture of time — all of it was merely the expression of the same instinct that built civilizations and painted the stars: to understand, to create, to reach beyond the visible. If I have learned anything worth passing on, it is this: The pursuit of happiness is not joy without pain, nor success without failure. It is the courage to remain curious — to ask, to build, to imagine — even when the world insists it cannot be done. Because somewhere, between the question and the answer, we meet the divine spark that makes us human. And that, I believe, is happiness itself.