Of course I realize that these fantasies are childish. And yet I’m sure there must be a place in this universe from which you can look at both worlds and they’re both equally true. The real and the imagined. Because in a billion years, when everything’s gone and forgotten, when time has erased everything and there’s no proof anymore of anything whatsoever, what reality was will be irrelevant. Perhaps then the stories I invented in my head will have been just as real and unreal as what people have called reality.
