We get mistaken for strangers by our own friends.

I adore story lines, but I live for the beginnings. Oh the beginnings, the myriad options they pursue. It's almost orgasmic, the exciting spot where the characters are just about to develop, where every new person or a place adds something to the big picture...just like honey. There is some mysterious pleasure in knowing you have the opportunity to alter your opinion, develop the taste, to add little pieces to the puzzle...just like art, but you create it within yourself, showing nothing of it for the rest of the world, this individual touch adds sad beauty to the whole process as if you are watching a butterfly in a glass jar, flipping its wings, flying nowhere. Yet there is so much freedom in the beginnings, they can lead you anywhere, you never know what will happen next, you're hooked and you never want to see the endings. I don't. I won't.
I'm lucky to have many beginnings, living one now, shall be living another in just few months...a beginning that is nothing like the one I have here, this is a developing story line that takes place in another country, far, far away.