I do not dream of such meager ambitions. Nay, I dream of becoming the very fabric that drapes upon the warm skin of youthful women. Oh, to be eternally nestled, supporting luscious mounds of hopes and dreams. Be it in the sweltering heat of the summer sun, or the frigid air of winter— it matters not. Because by being inhuman, I achieve the true purpose of humanity. Yes, that is right. We are born to hold boobs.