Of love and vulnerability….
I have found myself wondering which would be worse, fantasy or vulnerability. Living a fantasy life would be pretty amazing if we’ve got a good imagination. Then again, if we can master the vulnerability side of this, we wouldn’t need the fantasy.
The fantasy I often think of is one in which I move to a remote deserted island and shut myself off from society. I dream of a white sandy beach hot under my feet, palm trees swaying in the breeze, the sun beating down on me as I open my eyes in the mornings and quiet—no one else on this island with me.
Days consist of searching for berries or other edible plants. Maybe whittling a stick into a spear and teaching myself to fish, spending my day standing as still as I can be in the ocean while waiting for just the right fish to be curious…
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