Does anyone still believe in magic? In alchemy? Or, to put it in the language of adulthood, does anyone still believe their ideals can be turned into realities?
I heard a phrase the other day: “the utopian glimmer of fiction”.
It hit me in the most gentle and powerful way.
I found the phrase so relatable. I felt like I knew exactly what the writer meant by it. And, I think, it’s one those phrases you either get or you don’t get. There’s very little middle ground with this particular combination of words. The utopian glimmer of fiction means a lot to you or it means nothing at all.
The utopian glimmer of fiction means everything to me. It’s strange because, God, while it means everything to me now only a few days ago I didn’t have this phrase at my disposal. I didn’t even know how to articulate that…
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