Last night, wriggling in my childhood bed, under the dark silhouette of the old cedar tree that stands in front of my mother's house, I planted a seed. I would have said lunar silhouette, but there was no moon last night, so these thoughts were not inspired by madness, but rather by the warm air of the awakening spring. And maybe the tannin of the copious amounts of red wine downed to celebrate my mum's birthday.
Something popped in my head like a bubble ready to burst, and this seed stretched its first tiny root into the fertile ground. This world that surrounds me and us all. The emotions. The ideas. The people. How ironic that this should happen in my childhood bed.
For the record, it was 2:08 am CET, 28 March 2006. For the record, it was a Tuesday. For the record, there was no moon (did I mention this already? I think it's important). One day these things will matter. People will want to know. They will want to understand if last night was a good time to plant seeds. Or to dream of a different world.
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