What if our stories came alive on stage.
If we actually believed everything we have written in sms (All those wasted ‘thank you’, ‘goodmornings’, goodnights’!)
If you could believe that people, strangers to one another, listen to the radio every day in order to take part in a game.
If our toys never broke, or broke and then we put them together and made them look brand new.
If death was a new cloth you put on to see if it fits you.
If we went over to his place with no second thought.
If you were afraid of Hali-gali.
If you fell asleep singing and woke up dancing.
If we stole a kiss under the shadows of the statues.
If statues danced.
If people stopped staring at each others shoes.
If there was no green room with locked doors.
If the dead spoke and the living feared nothing.
-Wouldn’t you cry?
-Wouldn’t you laugh?
-Wouldn’t you chase the one you want at all costs?
-Would you hope against hope?
-Wouldn’t you feast in a party with memories of the city and the heart –in a celebration with not a single frown?