I had eaten BACI many times, but only this year did that tiny slip of paper feel alive— as if the universe slipped me a note when I wasn’t looking.
“No limits but the sky.” At first I questioned it: Why stop at the sky? Why not the universe? Why a boundary at all?
Then I realized— the line wasn’t meant to confine me; it was meant to show how my perception has expanded.
Like fortune cookies, like those random facts wrapped in LIBRA pads, like the QVB doors, like the merry-go-round horse, like the stubborn little flower pushing through concrete—
Nothing changed except my capacity to notice. The beauty was always there, quietly waiting.
BACI didn’t predict anything. It simply asked: “Are you ready to see a little more of the world today?”