As always, I sit on my small balcony, accompanied by a warm cup of tea. Then my mind starts playing with me, pretending to break the boredom, and takes me into imaginary conversations in the form of messages to an alien — one I haven’t yet been lucky enough to confirm exists. I discuss various matters concerning humans with it, and together we try to make sense of these strange behaviours. But it seems that, in the end, we are doomed to fail…
But… why doesn’t this being respond to me?
(These conversations are utterly illogical, generally biased, and unfair to the human race most of the time. They support my personal opinions from my own very specific, arrogant perspective. And I have full freedom to change my views if I’m convinced otherwise — because these are my writings, this is my balcony, and this is my tea. Thank you.)
