Bookmark #706

The best kind of stories are where the elements of fantasy are used sparingly, and nothing is too out there, and when you experience it, you know it is a story, but you also know that it could very well be something that happened in the neighbourhood, and if it did, and if you heard it from someone, and if they had a habit of exaggeration, you would get a version of it almost precisely like the story you’ve just read or watched. And when people talk in those stories, they speak in such a way that if you replaced one of them and placed someone else, someone real in it, they would be able to carry the conversation forward, and no one would notice the replacement. I think those are the best stories. There is a place for all of it, of course, but if I were to choose to lose myself in an unbelievable world, I prefer to be lost with someone I would not mind talking to if I ever met them; quite possibly, I would not mind calling them a friend, either. For the sake of explicit clarity, since the preference for one thing is often interpreted as hatred for another today, I am a lover of all stories; only we all have our favourites in the things we love, too. That much, you’ll have to agree with.

Favourite seasons, favourite lovers, favourite cafes or favourite films do not tell you that they are loved more than the others, and I believe that is where people start to conflate things; they only tell you that when someone thinks about the thing, their favourite is what usually comes to mind. When I think of drinking, I think of an old fashioned. Does that mean I despise beer? No. On the contrary, when I think of summer, I cannot help but think of a warm day on a terrace patio and the cold pint of beer in my hands, every drop and bubble sparkling under the golden, royal sun. We all have our favourites. The trick, if there is any, is being open to them changing. There are no absolutes here. There can never be any. The human spirit tries to fill the days it is poured into. Often, it fills some days faster than others. That has nothing to say about its ability to adapt or change. All it says is there are parts of life we like, and there are some parts we like more than others.

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