In the glowing night, with the revolving stars, along with the dancing moon, I breathe dreams like air. It’s a Fitzgerald line ‘breathing dreams like air.’ and it’s exactly the right saying to describe how I feel. These dreams come to me, softly and rapidly, just like air, almost imperceptibly, shaping lost fragments into stories of a sweet dazzling mystery that is yet to come. My heart yearns, my soul longs. I sight. And then I breathe in another fragment of a dream and let it take over me. What can be done, said or defined? Nothing at all…. but, while I breathe all these dreams I remind myself that I become a dreamer: an alchemist of life itself. I sight. I long…. and I wait to see which gold will become.