If I could snap my fingers and rearrange my world with a wish, it’d be a simple one. I wouldn’t wish for riches, nor immortality. I would not wish for superpowers or a soundtrack to my life (thought that would be wish 2), No…I would wish for a life lived somewhere that felt like endless Autumn. It’s December here, cold, and Autumn feels like a memory that I don’t want to lose, like a dream I don’t want to forget when I wake. I wish I lived in a place where Autumn stretched on so far, Winter was the memory, and I was surrounded by falling leaves and peat fires slowly brought to life. I want to watch that smoke in that chimney from that cottage I will one day own. This is my lamp rubbing genie asking wish, endless Autumn in a place that makes my heart sing. Writing by some window by some sea, listening to my wife humming while she bakes in some corner of some kitchen. This. Only this. Always this.
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