Life itself is only a vision, a dream. Nothing exists save empty space, and you are but a thought.
Set the physical pleasures aside for a bit and let me discuss one of my favorite indulgences I have had since I was a kid, but have unfortunately given up on way too many times in my current time frame. Reading. No, not (fashion) magazines—although I am guilty of reading the Cosmopolitan and Elle almost every month since I was 13 (inquisitive ass kid w/ out Internet, what are you gonna do about it?)—but actual books. Hardcore literature. The stuff that is hard to swallow and takes ages to get through. Stories made up of sentences that you have to read at least twice to comprehend, and often change your outlook on life.
