wouldn't it be nice, if every new day, we were really reborn ?
if the innocence lost the previous day were restored ?
if we could continue believing in our dreams, keeping the faith, without any of it marred by the disillusionments of the previous day ?
if we could write off all the faults committed before, even if it meant that we would probably repeat them ?
wouldn't your conscience then be the pink of a newborn baby's feet ? so tender, so untouched, so unscarred by the abrasive world. pink as only purity can be ? as only freshness can be?