Can you believe in something impossible? Sometimes I lose the energy. I want to dream of a paper aeroplane that could fly from London to Paris, or that the sun would travel backwards through the sky. However, I am a product of my generation and my culture. Everything has an explanation and either there is nothing left for the imagination or imagination itself is now an impossibility.
I have also reached the conclusion that nothing ever really ends, only changes come slowly, shifting the days and years and giving us memories. Stories too, dreamed up, have to start somewhere, and yet they build off many other thoughts and when they end there is always more that could be said.
It is not the disappearing days that give importance to our lives; each one becomes an irrelevance with time, productive or not, and even changes when looked back on simply alter the route we take towards some greater impossibility, some mysterious goal. We must always have a goal, and why should that goal not be impossible? Some would say that what we have already done is impossible. Our very lives, imprinted with the marks of others are something that cannot be explained or fully understood but are of utmost importance.