I could be an entrepreneur who lives in Costa Rica and writes a witty Monday column every single Monday. I would live in a bungalow overlooking the sea and I’d go to the market to buy fresh fruit. I’d be a wine and online brands expert and I’d spend my afternoons watching naughty monkeys and inventing online business strategies. I’d dream of eating a fresh crispy croissant, because they are no good in the rain forest. And I’d worry that I could lose my edge. Because that’s what rain forests do to you.
I could be an entrepreneur who lives in Paris and who runs a Facebook page that is so refreshingly honest and raw and touching that it makes everyone cry. I would wear oversized jewellery and orange lipstick and write my fourth book on a cushioned window sill overlooking the city. I would dream of kitesurfing and I’d worry about the negative Amazon reviews and about being a dreamer and about writing a book that nobody cares about.
I could be an entrepreneur who lives in Bali and is usually barefoot. I would proficiently drive around on my motorbike and wear toe rings and balloon pants and no makeup. I would have weekly massages and Skype with my loyal clients over in Europe with a rice field in the background. My Instagram feed would feel like a luscious tropical gulp of green. I’d dream of biting into a juicy apple and wearing a trench coat for a walk in a place with more than just a rainy and a dry season. I’d worry about having a good enough internet connection and keeping my time zones straight and being devoured by mosquitos.
I could be an entrepreneur who lives in San Diego and shares a gorgeous enormous house with 3 health-conscious creators who make green smoothies that actually taste good. I would throw weekly brunches and I’d interview my soul sisters on my podcast. I would wear patterned yoga pants, except when I want to feel sensual. Then I’d wear a nymph-like long dress with an open back. I’d dream of living in a tiny house and I’d worry about living in a bubble, running out of good interview topics and boring everyone with more of the same.
I could be an entrepreneur who lives in Berlin. I’d wear my hair short so you can always see my chunky earrings. I’d know all the bar owners, artists and editors and I’d go out almost every night to talk about politics, modern art and flea markets with strangers. I’d publish a limited-edition magazine on recycled paper and I’d fill it with crowd-funded ideas and true stories nobody has heard before. I’d dream of spending more time in the sun and I’d worry about being seen as just another broke Berlin hipster.
I could be an entrepreneur living in the mountains of southern Spain. I’d turn the old stall into a rustic studio where I’d film weekly videos with state-of-the-art video equipment. I would pick fresh flowers and oranges for a fresh juice every morning. I’d wear tight jeans and over-sized blouses and I’d drive to the beach in my red Jeep for a good sangria and salsa in the sand. I’d dream of attending conferences in the States and I’d worry about my insufficient Youtube impact and turning into an olive-eating hermit.
Or I could stay where I am and blog, run a Facebook page, write a book, work with individual clients, interview influencers, put together a magazine and shoot weekly videos while belittling myself for the meagre size of my list and my inability to create consistently.