To outsiders, my ramblings may be strange, by very well they are. I have, as most do, an endless stream of consciousness. Of wishes and dreams. Of horrific things most would abandon at the slightest whisper. We all produce thoughts we would lay atop a raging fire lest they be spoken aloud to curious ears. Particularly, today, I dream of Monaco and yachts. Endless champagne, polo, exquisite dresses and luxuriously slow living. I dream to read wine, speak history, draw eyes.

Particularly, today that is, I feel as though I outgrow my box. I splinter at the bars that press in on me. By no means am I truly trapped. No concrete divination nor inclination to be unhappy with my life. Though, buried under my soul and the shards of previously lived lives, I want to drip in luxury as I speak quietly to command the gods. I do not want money for money’s sake, I want to not have to dream at all, as my desires would never evolve past thoughts.