It seems to me that everything we’re doing is never enough. We are all working for the moment or some moment in the future and we all are fools to believe that a moment could be eternal. Little things are just what I live for. And yet, I am not exempt from the selfish desire of working for the moment. For I too crave that same delicious euphoria and temporary dream that only I can be satisfied by. Each and every day is a new challenge, a hurdle we jump over, some easily and others with difficulty. And so wrapped up in our worlds, we’ve forgotten that there is a limit to every pleasure in the world. So I say, I can only trust a lunatic, a radical rather than a normal being, because they seem to be living on the borders of this dream we all share and at the same time don’t. Our desires are somewhat a part of our existence, our being. And it’s not blood alone coursing through these veins but some invisible fluid of a search for the unattainable instilled from our birth. So when I look at this, the radical and the being, I see the contrast that compels me to realise my own flaws, and recognise the vastness and the depth of my own confusion like a black ocean glimmering white jewels under the silver moonlight.