The unfortunate thing about me dreaming is that it’s either I’m overly optimistic, visiting a land of perfection, a land with no plight; or I’m highly pessimistic, lining up all the things that would cause the demise of all the joy that such a reality would bring. Black and White. The unfortunate thing is that I never make time to imagine the matter that lives in between, the truth of the whole story, the details that bring about the next moment and the moment after that. Don’t we love to be happy or sad; we never want to just be, we don’t want to be sagacious, that has no tale to tell. We want the explosion, even an erosion will do, but it must be something that requires more than just you, it needs to attract second and third parties. Why would I want to just be, only me and my senses? No, I never think of the calm, a time when I have to think and accept my decisions, a time to be with my reality, a time to see me.


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