Let me be a little girl with a soap bubble blower in my hand.

And my words be millions of bubbles, tiny little rainbows surrounding you.

And may you dance in between them with abandon and laughter.

It’s impossible that they will touch you in any meaningful way without bursting.

But let you be the one unweaving the rainbow.

The fleeting bubbles didn’t create the dance though the little girl doesn’t know it.

The dance came first and will be there after they burst and become one with the dust, the letters crumbling in a moment into nothingness.

Yet. For a moment. Let you feel as if you are floating on air.

That moment is the ambition.