I couldn’t have worded this anymore beautifully myself.
We are all the stuff of dreams.
Someone famous said that. But what does that really mean?
It means we are all stars hurtling through the sky, rotating in broken circles, doomed to either speed through this world alone, or crash a thousand times, waiting and hoping for the one time we are joined with some other falling star. But beneath all these layers of romantic imagery, there is the notion that maybe all of it is grounded in a sea of bullsh*t.
What do we dream about now, this generation of us?
As a child, I dreamed of a big house – I had watched too much MTV Cribs, and I wanted bookcases that became revolving doors, walls that also doubled as television screens, and a separate room with a retractable roof and a swimming pool. But more generally, I wanted to be someone that other people saw, that…
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