Every day, you grasp an apple from the tree, and it tastes good. Crisp. Predictable. It satisfies your hunger.
Until one day you realize the apples aren’t growing back and that you’re not even sad because green apples never really were your thing.
You begin to fantasize about a big fat red apple – the type that makes you wonder if life had always been this sweet. Your soul is captured by wanderlust. You sneak a peak beyond the canopy for the first time – into the horizon – where you spot a distant speckle. You swear it’s the dreaming tree, the one that holds your prize, and this time you’re ready to make your escape.
… Drip. Drop.