Why I Don’t Kill Flies Disclaimer: Sorry this has nothing to do with Germany! „Stop, don’t kill it!,” I yelled as our office intern suddenly leaped up, waving a rolled up magazine to swat at a fly, which was frantically buzzing around the room. “I thought you were a Christian?,” I mumbled, trying to keep calm as I rose from my seat at the conference table. He froze, his hand hovering midair. He stared at me: short black hair, five feet of quivering anger, encased in a thin Asian frame. “Oh, I forgot you were a Buddhist,” he replied, sarcasm clouding his voice. OK, diplomacy wasn’t always my strong point. So touché to him, I thought. In fact, many people believe my religion is why I often plead with them to spare the lives of insects. But that’s not the real reason. It all started when I was about four years old. I know I had to be that age, because my mother had not yet learned to drive. She started taking driving lessons later, after the accident. That’s why we had to walk