To Life,
Isn’t it so strange?
Somewhere in this grand, wide world, there is someone out with their friends. Maybe they’re taking those late-night drives that I desperately love to go on. Those drives where you can’t help but sing your heart out to old, bad pop songs that you just happen to remember exist—the ones that transport you back to a time when the world was simply a stage for your antics. Those drives where the city lights seem to shine a little brighter, and the skies look a little clearer. Those drives where time simply seems to stop, and you wish you could live in that moment forever.
Somewhere in this grand, wide world, there lives laughter.
And somewhere in this grand, wide world, there is someone staying home, unconfined by their walls but safe within their comforts. Maybe they’re reading an amazing book by an author I have yet to find; maybe it is the type of book that you can’t seem to pull your eyes away from, or maybe it is the type where you simply have to power through to the end. I imagine they’re wearing the most fashionable clothing whilst cooking a meal made meticulously with love, for it is to be shared with all the people they love. A meal of love for those they love.
Somewhere in this grand, wide world, there lives care.
And somewhere in this grand, wide world, there is someone fast asleep. What they dream of I can’t help but be curious about. Maybe they believe they’re pirates, living out the most complex and dramatic adventures there is. Or maybe they’re dreaming of something a little more calm, like a vacation to some faraway place where the wind dances through their hair just right, and the sunsets paint the skies with enchanting orange and purple hues. Or maybe they dream of something more unorthodox, like squirrels dancing with oranges.
Somewhere in this grand, wide world, there lives imagination.
Isn’t it so strange?
Out in the world—that vast, lavish world—everyone’s lives have been lived so differently; every moment has been lived differently. We all remain so different from one another.
And yet, each of our lives intersect. They intersect and intertwine as if it were a beautiful, convoluted spider-web.
And so, here, in this grand, wide world, there lives connection: to our independent experiences, to our shared moments, and to each other.
Love always,
Alysse
