Sometimes I daydream (no, of course not during the working hours) about living in the wonderful chaos of Paris in the 1920s. I’d spend my time gracefully blurred with drinks, music and poetry. I would be very interested in politics and economical news but wouldn’t have any practical application. Staying faithful to the facts wouldn’t be my main concern and I’d make a habit of entangling stories  and projections, wishes and pieces of reality. I would never be content to sit quietly on the sidelines , always wanting to navigate in the core of all happenings. I know that in that Paris I would be destined to inspire and be inspired.

Yes, sometimes daydreaming can be organically satisfying , despite or in spite? the day to day workplace hierarchies, the patient ambitions and the 2011s working class world and its laconic asides.

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