Live Forever

The air smells like rain, and thoughts are free. Everything seems as usual: the same streets, the same people with umbrellas, but suddenly something familiar clicks in my chest, as if youth winked from around the corner. You don't need to know how gardens grow or where all this is leading. It's enough to feel that the stubborn "not yet finished" lives inside. There are moments when you want to straighten your shoulders, take a deep breath that makes your lungs tingle, and just fly without a destination, without explanations, without fears. Not because everything is perfect, but because there's no other way. Because there's someone nearby who sees the world in the same way, to the core, to the bone. And that's enough to believe: yes, we will live forever. Or at least pretend it's true.