I am a student of the world. I imagine learning that phrase in Italian and being able to say it to someone when I go there. And they’ll smile and understand, think I’m deep and thoughtful. I imagine lots of things. It seems to be my only solace lately from the drudgery of “getting through”. Because getting through is hardly the mystical, self-discovering time people make it sound like, it’s really just slugging through the shit trying to survive. If you’re lucky you’ll survive.
I imagine eating pasta every meal and drinking wine all the time. I imagine getting freckled on a Greek beach. I imagine skinny dipping in Spain and getting lost on the Irish countryside (Yes, I want to happen across a handsome Irishmen in the style of PS, I love you, minus the whole brain tumor ending). I want to drink in the world and let it fill me up with the life I have been missing for years.
Maybe I’ll never come back.