I tried to look at the starts tonight, and finding none I loked around me. The sight was a real delight to my eyes: centuries old walls looked at me, surrounding me with history and so many untold stories about this place I know inhabit. This place that is so familiar to me now, that I can call each blade of perfectly tamed grass by its natural name.
But the summer night wind blew sideways and I realized that life will blow me away and take me places that are yet unknown to me, and I might never come back to those walls again. This is the last time. I try to take everything in at the same time, but memories fade almost as fast as they are created.
I will have pictures, I say, comforting myself. But how often will I look at them? How often will I remember what I felt, how the cold breeze felt against my skin, how desolating it was to see a starless night.
All my decisions, all my mistakes, all my acts of valor will guide me inevitable to my death and then all my memories will die with me.
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ReplyDeleteI have the same feeling wherever I go. I've just been to my father's hometown once, for instance, and I'm pretty sure I'll never get back to that yellowish place again. :/ That's not something I'm going to miss, particularly, but there are so many awesome places that I want to visit once more and chances are I never will.
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