Woman: "In my opinion, when it gets too serious, it's over."
Let my life be a Van Gogh painting. A symphony of discrete points hopefully merging to form a picture. Sum of parts? Partial sums? Let it be a long walk through a forest, ferns and fairies peeking with equal surprise, reality and magic blurring each others' boundaries. Green undergrowth with secrets to uncover. Let people waltz in and out, sharing their ideas and more importantly, their passions with me. Let them inspire love and poetry. We can share our wounds and grow older in each others' company. If they walk away, let it be with a smile in their hearts. Let my story be a Linklater reel, a chatter of conversations and bold silences. Ambiguous endings and Waking Reality. Let my world challenge me with pain and allow me to treat it with the fervour I reserve for my four legged friends. Let me live through a series of postcards, each with a soulful story to tell. Worn out shoes and a colourful diary. A travelogue through different worlds. Let not fame or fortune be mine, an evening with a well-loved book would be more precious. Let my life sound like the gentle clinking of a payal, unobtrusive and simple. When someone hears it in a distant land, let them think of me. Let a sense of wonder and craving to know guide my actions. Question marks and answers. Let my tale feel like a cosy patchwork quilt, smoothed out by loving hands, wrapped around shivering shoulders on a winter day, imperfect with its stains and tears, sewed up with coloured threads, always slightly warm. Let me not shy away from the bizarre or be supercilious about the mundane. Let not jealousy and anger consume me, let them be treated with the nonchalance they deserve. Let my journey read like a poem, for even if it doesn't rhyme, let it have a colourful soul.