Everything will change, but love remains the same.

Wednesday, May 20, 2009 11:30 PM

We would be strangers who find each other and instantly connect, a group of us who love the same things and don't need to talk to know. We would live together in a small house with cracks on the walls, but we'd cover the cracks with paint and express everything on the furniture. Everyday we'd wake up and there'd be pancakes, or sausages, or a sunny side up. We'd sit around the dining table that is oddly shaped cos we sculpted it that way, and we'd talk and laugh and tell each other about our dreams last night. And then we'd not bother washing the dishes because we simply can't be bothered.

Then we'd leave the house and bask in the sun. We would go to interesting places, and sit and draw for hours on end. Or maybe if it felt like a paint sort of day, we'd bring canvas instead of sketchbooks, paints instead of pencils. We wouldn't speak when we drew, we wouldn't need to. And when we were done, we wouldn't criticise or feel inferior. If it was too late we'd sit wherever we were and enjoy sunsets, or we'd go to a cafe and drink creamy coffee. If we felt like it, we'd pour the coffee over paper and make art with that. We'd dip biscuits into the coffee and we'd laugh and talk once more.

We wouldn't make any decisions beforehand, so there wouldn't be any dinner plans. We'd ask the first stranger we saw to decide for us, and go to wherever that place was. Maybe on rare days, we'd try to cook at home, and have fun laughing at broken egg yolks and smashed plates, but that'd make up for the bad food. After dinner we'd sit on the couch and watch some silly tv and laugh and talk again. On sad days we wouldn't say anything, or we'd buy balloons to decorate the house with no occasion whatsoever, just because balloons make people happy. Or we'd bake potatoes in the shape of a smiley, or do whatever else. But we didn'tneed words, people didn't need words.

When it finally got dark we'd paint our faces and dress up like anything we could think of, maybe a chocolate cake, or a vampire, or a weasel. We'd make new costumes every month, and buy new face paint, and hair dye. Every night would be the best time of the day. We'd leave the house as unrecognizable people, and give our artworks out to people who didn't know art for free. We wouldn't leave our names, or numbers. And when we were done, we'd run around the streets and splash paint on the floor. Soon the town would be painted, and nobody would knew who did it all. We'd find all sorts of ways to show happiness with paint, because we feel like it.

We'd return home and sleep as late as we wanted to, wake as late as we wanted to. Nobody would care, and we wouldn't have to worry about anything.

And when we were finally ready, we'd take our sketchbooks and head out again. Maybe today we could to go a field of green flowers, or maybe a lake with pink sand. And we'd lie in the sand and get all pink so we didn't need facepaint that night. We'd go to anywhere we could find, do anything we wanted, and nobody would care about anything at all.

daydreams are happy things.