One day, I’ll tell the truth.
When they ask what I’m up to this weekend, I’ll say:
I’m going to lock myself in my room, sit on my bed, close my eyes and disappear through a doorway of silence into another world. I’m going to explore unexplored landscapes and travel untravelled paths. I’m going to have adventures you couldn’t begin to imagine and time will cease to exist. I’ll sit by a winter stream, wrapped in the arms of my beloved. I’ll become a star in the night sky, an elderly woman in Argentina, a bird plummeting into the sea. And when the weekend is over and it’s time to return, I’ll feel more rested than after a thousand nights’ sleep, all my worries and wounds will have melted into a golden river and I’ll be carrying a bagful of treasure and jewels that I’ll spend all week hiding in stories and poems.
I doubt very much they’ll ask about my weekend plans again after that, which is good, because I do so dislike that question.