I want to road trip forever. And work full time, so as to be busy, to occupy my mind. I want to work with my hands, hard. I want five children with cotton dresses pulling weeds from the garden with me. I want to drive alone across Russia, live alone on the Mongolian planes for the next fifteen years. Learn the sound of silence. Fill my life with sweet noise. I want truth. I want to watch the sunrise on the Parisian rooftops, and set in my backyard lighting up the roses. To join an all girl rock band and devote my life to yelling politics at politicians, and to remove myself from society so far, so distantly that you’d have to run away too to find me. I want a thousand quiet nights. A hundred sleepless ones to remind me what it is to be alive.

The dichotomy of life is even more unutterably beautiful than this

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