...I want a turret, covered in ivy, with a front door and a back door. And windows. Somewhere I can see the world through 360°. A little bit of castle.
I want guarantees, but nothing big, just things that are worth the paper they're written on.
I want to be able to see squirrels whenever the mood takes me. In fact any foraging creature will do. I just want wildlife on my doorstep. Snuffling noses and twitching whiskers. Quizzical mixed with careless abandon, and a hint of quarry. Failing that a top hat would do.
I want a new heart. In fact I want new insides, better insides. More resilient. Longer lasting.
I want a Sky+ life. A microwave option so I can experience everything quicker if I want to. And slow-mo. To be able to see the world in time lapse whenever I choose. Or freeze frame moments of joy or record them. I don't want to have to rely on my memory. I could live and relive at will.
I want a clean slate.
I want to be able to smell smoke all year round. Do you know what I mean? Not just in the Autumn. I want invisible burning fields, conjuring images of the sun's rays as marble javelins.
I want to be able to mend cars. To be able to know what's wrong with cars and be able to mend them. I want to be able to to tell what's wrong with a car just by listening to it.
I want every penny I've ever wasted.
I want some foresight. Sometimes. Not all the time. Not even most of the time. Just some of the time. But more than that I want serendipity.
And I want cobwebs, in isolation. Not yards of haunted house replicas. Not long abandoned flaky spiderhomes, but fragile, freshly spun, diamond encrusted, architectural miracles.
That's about it.
I don't want much.
I don't want to be King Midas.
I want guarantees, but nothing big, just things that are worth the paper they're written on.
I want to be able to see squirrels whenever the mood takes me. In fact any foraging creature will do. I just want wildlife on my doorstep. Snuffling noses and twitching whiskers. Quizzical mixed with careless abandon, and a hint of quarry. Failing that a top hat would do.
I want a new heart. In fact I want new insides, better insides. More resilient. Longer lasting.
I want a Sky+ life. A microwave option so I can experience everything quicker if I want to. And slow-mo. To be able to see the world in time lapse whenever I choose. Or freeze frame moments of joy or record them. I don't want to have to rely on my memory. I could live and relive at will.
I want a clean slate.
I want to be able to smell smoke all year round. Do you know what I mean? Not just in the Autumn. I want invisible burning fields, conjuring images of the sun's rays as marble javelins.
I want to be able to mend cars. To be able to know what's wrong with cars and be able to mend them. I want to be able to to tell what's wrong with a car just by listening to it.
I want every penny I've ever wasted.
I want some foresight. Sometimes. Not all the time. Not even most of the time. Just some of the time. But more than that I want serendipity.
And I want cobwebs, in isolation. Not yards of haunted house replicas. Not long abandoned flaky spiderhomes, but fragile, freshly spun, diamond encrusted, architectural miracles.
That's about it.
I don't want much.
I don't want to be King Midas.
