Maybe one day it will be easy to make the pictures and the sounds and the feelings and the smells in my head into beautiful images in words so wonderful that you will see the make-believe world which plays across the inside of my eyelids.
When I'm not listening, when I have to sit there on the train ignoring the boring conversations of people around me who have never heard of discretion, when I'm driving along that dark road at night, when I'm not watching the boring film, when I have my eyes closed pretending to sleep, when I'm sitting there at my modelling bench doing nothing with that piece of plastic, then I am there, then I am listening to the sounds, making conversations happen you'll never hear, full of passion and righteousness, and anger and even love, then I am starting wars and fighting them and finishing them, then I am revelling in moments of sheer wonder, then I am being bit parts and major players, then I am understanding things I cannot fathom in real life, then I am writing words so wondrous and complex that if I ever wrote them down I would never write again, for fear that I could not live up to them.
I hope so much that one day you'll be able to see it too. I promise to try to make it real. Even if you are the only one to read my words, that will be enough, because they are for you.
I love you.
