On the rare occasions when my mother is out, I pretend that I am still on the ship, the Spectrum. I talk to my shipmates and make lunch in the titanium vessel and eat it out in the garden. Play some musics aloud and work on my own project with a cup of coffee and raisins or nuts. Think about life and purpose and love and solitude and freedom and responsibility.
Utopia this is my utopia
And it is only during that time when a magic happens and I can see the little Spring Snowflakes dancing.
Is it a bad thing that I am still drawn into the dream life in the bubble?