Some may call it science―say complex neurochemical effect―or even spell work. For a yearning resting inside you, making you restless. You may want to call it time travel? For the illusion of being suspended in time―here, now―yet secure where the mind allays. The mind traverses through details of everything it has longed for―a palimpsest of heartbreaks. Perhaps, even merging of time-sculpting wishfulness and emancipated emotions overshadowed with a touch of undying unrealism, artlessly calling it hope―what often is allegorical to the sun dissolving itself in the ocean every day.
With the persistence of my longing, I may call it desiderium.
