Perhaps we don’t feel right for this century. Perhaps we want to look as dated as we feel.
Perhaps we are not ready for all this “new,” when we still feel so old.
Briefly, I want to be joy. I want to invent a pancake that tastes as good on wednesdays as it does on sundays, and then bring it to bus stops and distribute it to the patrons of the city. I want to feel the softest grass in the park and know that I did my homework correctly and blew my teacher away with my closing paragraph. I want to see the planets from my airplane window and know that I'll get home okay.
Perhaps we don’t feel right for this century. Perhaps we want to look as dated as we feel.
Perhaps we are not ready for all this “new,” when we still feel so old.