Aida Zabidi
Sometimes I look at the balloons I am holding and I wonder.

The balloons are the moments of my past, the people of my past - encounters who have made me who I am, changed me for better or worse, led me down the path I am now.

I wonder what would happen if I had cut the strings of certain balloons at different times, or reached out to catch another one at another time, just as I wonder what would happen if I pricked certain balloons, to never exist. 

I wonder if I would have been different.

I wonder if we would have been different.

I wonder if I would have been happier to just coast along the horizon in that idyll bliss.

Maybe I too should cut my own strings and float free into the sky, until I find once more the destination that I am meant to reach.

1 Response
  1. Anonymous Says:
    This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

Post a Comment