I think I might sit in this chair and dream a little bit.  When I sit, I like to bend one knee up to my chest, resting my foot on the seat of chair, hugging myself a little as I reach for the coffee cup, or turn the page of the book I am scribbling in.   This posture comforts the Restlessness of the What-Ifs.  The arms of the chair encircle me, like a captain steering through waves and winds of thoughts which come and go – not quite inside me, but not quite outside me, either.

That is where imagination is – already real, yet still becoming.