Somehow, independence has lost itself in our drive to succeed.
That thought stops to view a village life from the middle of a stone bridge over the rippling waters in the oxbows and backwaters of my thoughts.
Like playing with plastic army people and tanks, pretending to refight the battles of our ancestors.
Or recreating home life with miniaturised furniture in a dollhouse.
Are we ever really independent? Is any substance absolutely pure?
No need not to pretend otherwise.
Our dreams are as exact a diamond point as we want them to be.
Diners on old rocking chairs, private school fundraisers, bowls full of liberty, professional approaches to amateur sports - we're as unpretentious as we want and are perceived to be.
Pure happiness knows no religion or politics. No hierarchies, but plenty of temptations to create them. As easy as being satisfied with whatever comes your way. Nameless. Faceless. Independent in the middle of social interdependence.
Don't chase after or run away from your dreams - let them come to you as if you've lived them your whole life.
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