Back to Magic
Have you ever been told you dream too high, that your aspirations overflow what’s deemed possible? As a child, my world was an infinite canvas, each dream a seed planted in fertile soil.
I dreamed without borders, barefoot, while skeptics watched, their smiles hiding doubts. But the dreamer in me continued to dance, immune to the disbelief surrounding me.
Over the years, reality began to fade the colors of my dreams.
When I thought I had lost all illusion, I discovered a mystical place. Stepping onto its soil, the air was charged with magic, Dublin appeared as if lifted from a fairy tale.
The years slid by in a dreamless routine,
until a question ignited the spark of what I thought was extinguished:
“What is the next step?”
The answer came spontaneously—
That magical place still shone like a beacon through the fog; it was still my dream.
Today, I find myself embracing my vulnerability, writing a promise to that wide-eyed dreaming girl, to the woman who has reclaimed all those dreams.
I know I will feel that magic again, and when that happens, my tears will be of joy — for her, for me.
We rewrite our futures with the courage of our past,
with the strength that comes from knowing we are never truly alone.
Yes, I can do it—I assure myself, as a promise that every dream,
sooner or later, simply becomes reality.
