I don't want to have any ending sentence, any full-stop. I want to live life to the fullest. I want to stretch the capacity of existence so it can tailor itself to my limitlessness. I want to wake up every day and be on the edge of life; risk follows an adventure, and an adventure follows an impulse. I want to be alive on the spur of the impulse, on the spur of my heartbeats.
Not the dream itself that gives me life but the process of daydreaming. The process of imagination and mind-wandering is the melting point for my feeling heart. The dynamic of visualizing an image or an idea that is not constrained by a spatial awareness, not even constrained by an image in a visual sense. The process of imagistic daydreams that do not predicate, that follow no logical order, not even a realistic manifestation.
It is liberating to contemplate the vastness of such inner process and investigate the beautiful paradox of impossibility. To question why a realistic dream does not feel as attractive as an impossible dream. And even more intriguing to realize that as much as perception and imagination are strongly relevant, but they do not have the same content. Hence, failing to execute a daydream to a tangible reality can be reasoned by the mismatched content. That the realistic representations of a daydream do not actually meet the daydream in its pure image.