Yes, it’s time to get absurdly rich and buy myself a beautiful house somewhere nice and quiet. Where I can actually live. And work.

And be loved by everybody. And move around in the world living wherever and however I like. Since you have no use for the world otherwise. Let’s do that now. The previous 45 years of whatever that was were plenty.

And I’ll get pa out of that horrible home, those 5 square meters, where he’s sleeping on a cheap, shaky, plastic-looking hospital bed for over a decade now and going “that’s life”. Seeing someone else accept such sad, tacky, shitty shabbiness as his fate, all while existing in a made up fantasy world, did me good. And I’ll get him a house, too. And a maid to take care of him. And as many horses as you want. I saw you shrugging about that woman sitting at the table with us, so I know you’re very much in there. DU “chunnsch no uf d’Wäut”, i zeige DIR’s Bürschtli. Liebi zeig i dir.