When the past dies, there is mourning, but when the future dies our imaginations are compelled to carry it on.
When I was little, I knew that I was not adopted, but I actually imagined and hoped that I was, and that my real parents were going to come get me. I was just too different from the rest of the family, so I lived in books and in my imagination.
The same big TV antenna dwarfed each roof, as though life here could only be bearable if lived elsewhere in the imagination.