and it does go on…


Her lifetime gatherings stuffed in boxes waiting to be moved one more time…
She feels apprehensive about where she is going, about where life is taking her next, but she tries not to think about it. She tries to think of her little city, tries to remember what has already begun to fade away…
How strange memory is! How we filter our lives through the sieve of everyday-realities.
Later, she knows she will sit down… in a new house, by a new fire place, sipping wine from the last surviving glass… she will sit down and bring out the memories… only when they lose their power to hurt, do we bring them out. one by one. eagerly, like unfolding a story to a child. like opening a long-waiting present. we tear off the wrapping paper and begin to play, to tell our story. the story of where we came from, of who we met and what they did… we talk of how we are writing a new entry, a new chapter…
But for now, she looks at her boxes, casting monstrous shadows on her white walls… well, the walls are not hers anymore, only the boxes, and her thousand memories put away safely in the back of her mind, for a better time to come… for a fire place, for a glass of wine, and a friend, eager to share his stories of what had happened before.