munich mannequin

Maybe tomorrow, honey, somewhere down the line I'll wake up older, so much older, mama Wake up older And I'll just stop all my trying

I HATE THAT I LET THIS DRAG ON SO LONG

thought I was through with you, guess I'm a fool for you

I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree from the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a history teacher, and another fig was a brilliant military analyst, and another fig was a an amazing writer, and another fig was Asia and Africa and South America and another fig was Belisarius and Wu Zetian and De Beauvoir and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an international ambassador and above and beyond these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting at the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of these figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.