Someone I was close with at the time used to tell me off for smoking so much. And I always had my usual reply ready: “Dear, in my moment of divine revelation I learned that life is but a dream. Don’t you worry, none of this is real.” Hard to believe we could be so young. I got older but in my mind everyone I knew back then is imprinted forever the way they used to be. Golden, smiling, 20-something. Maybe being young was just a dream too. Maybe I let go of this dream so easily because my heart has always belonged to the world. How can I ever love another human the way I love the wind, the sunset and the lake? For a writer love is just electricity that runs through blank spaces between words.