The world on a schedule, a repetition of daily tasks lies on the travelator, inching forward. Nantes by Beirut, song on repeat. In memory of a realistic moment that was dreamt of for everlasting joy and pain. Things come and go, they are containers that we fill with meaning measured by the amount of love we have and that will make anything worthwhile.

Sometimes I wished I was a caveman. Born in a time where survivor was a matter of discovery and wealth in currency was nowhere to be seen, the only wealth was in a true sense of being.

< >