As kids, my sister called dandelion fluff “wishes” – and to this day I still refer to them (and other fluffs) as wishes.
I walked into an abandoned shed the other day, just to poke around, and found this: a giant wish catcher.
Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet.
One must not wish first to understand and then to feel. Art does not tolerate Reason.
What we need is not the will to believe, but the wish to find out.
What wishes would you catch, if you could?