I see through the hole in the clouds and see you, waving. I wave back.

Despite the distance between us and the respective lives that we are doomed to live, I can notice proximity. “How are you feeling, old chap?”, I think to myself while moving my hand from left to right. As I can’t receive an answer, I just make up one myself.

You’re looking up and see my round face in the sky. “Do I look this weird up close?”, you’re asking yourself.

“You do.”

You’re the future, I am the past. I know what has taken place, you don’t know anything. Who’s better off?

Even when M. Aurelius was sitting on the banks of a river, contemplating over his third book, he couldn’t help but notice the ridiculousness of the amounts of thoughts that we put into interpreting the past and worrying about the future.

So in the end, you’re truly blessed, viewed from my perspective. You have the capability of knowing nothing, learning everything and forgetting about it. That’s why I am in the clouds and you’re the, all materialistic and stuff.

I envy you.

Dears truly,

PS.