Der Tagtraum

Every day, I look into the distance. Not because I expect something to change, but because it might. Thoughts drift in, like paper boats. Some sink. Some float. None stay long. A daydream follows me around. It asks inconvenient questions in a polite tone: What if? Why not? Reality feels negotiable. Like it could be edited. Or slightly out of focus. I keep looking. Just in case it all makes sense one day. So far, it hasn’t. But the view is nice.