I might want to be a museum custodian. But you might be just unhappy about me sticking with the past, even trying to collect every reminiscence of it. Seeing me saving lives we all knew have been over for long, presuming so much from them until the boundary between the right now and the yesterdays gets all blurred. Recalling old times when you were not even part of those scenes yet. What if you, enjoy it a bit too much, until the pleasure of living in the moment just disappears because the bygone days comfort you a bit too much, too? What if death and demise excite you? You insist me.
Then I might want to live in a space shuttle where everything moves in slow motion. Where our kind of universe is never bigger than the aircraft we travel by. Where the truth that home is one galaxy away does not even hurt because up there we see that all of us are never more than insignificant particles floating in vacancy, with some of us still confined by gravity. Then what if you, enjoy it a bit too much, until the pleasure of landing your feet above terrain just disappears because the nothingness treats you a bit too nice, too? What if the guts of leaving and never coming back excite you? You enforce me.
Hence I might just want to remain forever questioned about how we would elapse life. How we overcome the enigma without trying to click the hint button and just conquer the riddle. I might just gonna be a friendly florist who gives away free lilies on Friday, next to your patisserie which never stops playing lo-fi musics. I might be not.
But we would be just fine.
“Now tell me, how we are supposed to woolgather.”
“Well, I guess, of all those fearsome sort of future I had pictured myself to see, what keeps me feeling comfortable still is the idea of Ernestito and Karolina.”