One day a cut will heal instantly; death will only occur because of old age: When it's time to go. And going will be peaceful.
One day the trees will produce fruit in and out of season, just for us.
One day there can't be any discord anymore.
One day storytelling stops. It just won't be nessessary anymore: Living will be more original, adventurous and fulfilling than any made-up story could ever be. There won't be no drama.
Pages filled with untold stories: 5
… I am wondering, though. There is that dream of, that longing for paradies.
As if the knowledge of it is burned into our hearts even though we've never seen or felt or experienced it, not even in our dreams.
What is that paradies, though? So far we've failed spectacularly to create it ourselves, but how would it even look? I can only imagine…