Impossibility is sort of phantasmagoria and we go after it not knowing what it is.
The library is made by its readers and the writers.
In small squares of sticky paper, we write notes to ourselves, it's a private conversation deemed irrelevant with time and isn't that our existence?
I know now that you won’t read this, and I don’t know if I will get to read it to you.
This is what adult life is, right? A pigeonhole existence, and nomadic presence.
Here I am fulfilling a childish dream through an adult ambition.
We never really take the 'new' in New Year seriously do we? I know I don't.
2019 is another Pandora's box we open tonight, so let's breathe easy before facing whatever's inside.
We take such good care of our belongings but never of ourselves.
This time of the year we all look back, we try and take our pitfalls with a pinch of salt, and ponder on all the wasted time