The questions ...

"What do you want?" they asked, their voices lingering in the air like a whisper carried by the wind.

"Nothing," I replied, my words a gentle defiance, "I have myself and my will and my fights."

"But what will make you happy?" they persisted, their concern etched in the lines of their faces.

I shook my head, at a loss for words, for how do I express the yearning that resides within me? How do I articulate the longing for sunsets that paint the sky in hues of fiery passion, and whirlwinds that dance with untamed freedom? How do I convey the ache for moonlight that weeps on shards of broken glass, and rivers that surge towards the vast embrace of the ocean, singing their own triumphant aria?

A dream or two, I thought, severed to make sugar for the snow, a sweetness born from sacrifice, a bittersweet symphony of desires and aspirations. Perfect architecture crafted from wild stones, a testament to the beauty found in imperfection, in the raw and untamed essence of life itself.

And within me, the world, dusted on the inside of my skin, an intricate map of experiences, emotions, and memories, a testament to the richness of existence, an ever-changing tapestry woven with threads of joy and sorrow, hope and despair.

So, when they ask what I want, I struggle to find the words, for what I yearn for is a symphony of moments, a mosaic of experiences, a kaleidoscope of emotions that weave together to create the very fabric of my being. It is the intangible, the ephemeral, the essence of life itself that I seek, for within it lies the truest expression of happiness.

Copyright ? Beatriz Esmer