I’d like you to imagine the whispering wind on a warm summer’s day, that blow your troubles right away.

I’d like you to hold this wind inside your soul, like that one special word that made you smile.

I’d like you to claim this wind as a your wind.

Now please answer these quick questions:

Does your wind like Harry Potter – if not, what does it like?
Has your wind gone to Area 51?
If your wind cackles, does the sun frown?
If it stops, do you need to take it to the nearest petrol station?
Would it rather go to Paris or Italy?
Who taught your wind to blow?
Has it paid all of its bills?
Can I too breathe in its fresh, morning air?