When I was young and had no care for scale, life was my playground, and the world was mine to fashion in the image of my imagination. A simple paper sculpture could whisk me away to foreign lands. I was richer than any businessman.
Then I grew up.
Now life consists of tangibles. Instead of reverie, responsibilities. No more taking the time to gleefully pursue every crazy idea that crosses my mind. I focus on “real” life. I’ve grown up a bit. Instead of my imagination I have piles of papers I would never dare fold into sculptures. Reality: The available paths have narrowed. There’s no more room for dreams to take flight.