Isn't it beautiful how there are infinite versions of everything? There are so many different worlds, I have lost its count. There is a world in which only I exist, I sometimes mumble lullabies I sometimes shout songs in the shower, Because this version is only mine, Nobody else would see me, right? I tap on my feet, Make paintings with the tip of my fingers in thin air. I tell myself whatever i want to hear. There is also a version in which only you and I exist. You can imagine anything in this, in our world, And there would still be a possibility that it exists. Isn't that beautiful?