yet if we haven’t had a taste of what we can become, how would we ever know where we could go? maybe one day, i’ll show up at your door: in the rain, in loose clothes, under a white umbrella. you’ll shake your head gently, with a trace of a smile. but i’ll insist on staying here, at least for a little bit. so you put the kettle over the flames, and from the far-end cabinet, you retrieve two boxes. green for me, red for you. you pour the boiling water onto the walls of the cups, which flows down gently to inspire a happy little dance amongst the tea leaves. you smile. we’ll sit there in silence, gazing into the rain; somewhere in our hearts, we’ll know that we have all there is to have.