O, to recapture for one day, one day only, the audacity of youth.
When boundaries are mere words, the world your oyster and nothing, and I mean nothing seems impossible.
O, to give in to one’s impulses 120 times a day. To laugh, and rush, and pause, and howl, and cry, and holler, and dash, and jump, and plummet, and soar, and quicken, quicken, quicken the pace, again and again and ever more.
O, to be young. One more time.
What wouldn’t I give to recapture, for one day, one day only, the ebullience of youth.