This ubiquitous political correctness is going to be the death of me. It’s clipping my wings. Because it’s the wrong ending, because I expressed myself incorrectly, I offended, I smothered, I choked, I stifled, because my skin color is wrong, because that’s not how you say it, because body, country, religion shaming, because tolerance, because vege, because rege. Have we all lost our sense of humor? We are one! Is this iron EGO, or the aftermath of Chernobyl or Corona? I pinch myself to see if this is a dream or reality.

The path to fulfilling dreams is beautiful and painful. It’s not difficult, because when you really want something, you fly. Then we become authentic, vulnerable, sometimes ridiculous, helpless, criticized, naive, with our noses bruised from doors being closed in our faces. We constantly fail to meet someone’s expectations. Landing with my hand in the potty is my daily reality. And despite everything, there’s nothing more fascinating.