To all the migrants of the world.
It is now a few minutes past midnight and the night has come to a near-standstill. So many things to do in such a short time! However, whenever evening screeches to a near-halt, I have discovered it to be the best time to peer into the future.
How many times I’ve visited the future, which is only a place where feelings like longing, optimism, hope, ideals and love reside.
Since the future is made up of such sentiments, it sometimes offers us a bit of wisdom in return if you know how the balance the past with the future. It’s like visiting a museum. Instead of admiring painting and sculptures, you check out how your sentiments are doing.
On one of my visits to the future, I met a kind child on a bicycle, who offered to transport me atop a high hill. It was clear from the landscape, and the way people walked away from you, that this was Suburbia in its purest form.
The ride to the top of the hill didn’t take long, say only five winks of an eye and a child’s warm smile. There were others — migrants of all sorts and types — watching the magnificent scenery below.
“What a beautiful view!” one says, watching how lights open up before him like an enormous runway.
“Yes, it does look beautiful,” I reply. “It looks like an enormous airport that stretches from Alaska to the southern tip of Argentina, with thousands of airplanes busily landing and taking off .”
“Where are so many planes coming from and leaving to?” another one asks.
“Those winged contraptions are coming and going to the future transporting longing, hope and ideals.”