I was born in completely the wrong era.
I belong here:
If only I were a mechanical genius and could build a time machine.
I guess my own stories will have to suffice.
I'm writing a play. Did I tell you?
It's about a brother and a sister, who are separated by World War II
She's far braver then me, and goes to find him.
But I don't know what happens next.
"It struck me that the movies had spent more than half a century saying, ''They lived "happily ever after'' and the following quarter-century warning that they'll be lucky to make it through the weekend. Possibly now we are now entering a third era in which the movies will be sounding a note of cautious optimism: You know it just might work.” -Nora Ephron.
I don't want a 'just might work'.
I want a happily ever after.
However naive that sounds.
Do you know, I've been thinking up some magic for you, but it's still brewing in the pot.
Please forgive my depressing rambles until it comes to a simmer, won't you?