thinking about memories in paris..

"You can close your eyes to reality but not to memories." - Stanislaw Jerzy Lec



Slightly intoxicated and possibly rambling.. I continually stumble upon the thoughts of remembrance; memories so beautiful but which are gone from me, from my heart. It's late night and I'm overlooking my entire neighborhood from my roof, the wind creating a bone cold sense within my body as the liquor ingested warms from my insides out. A neighborhood; the suburban houses almost alike apart from their individual styles from their owners, the randomly dimmed or bright street lights placed ever so often, the cars parked, and the peacefulness of nothing. Above; I have what few stars I'm able to pick out, what random constellations which choose to appear, and the moon: ever so bright and ever so ravishing.

One of the many places that I can disappear to in order to feel again, feel what a simple heart beat had felt like, what warmth there was in me. Funny I should mention warmth when perhaps it's nothing but the scotch keeping me buzzed. My closest friends would tell me; that these memories are like a cancer, they're insufficient, things which I should forget, things which matter not anymore, and true they are in every word, every sense.. Though let's face it, perhaps I'm a bit stubborn, perhaps I'm just too ignorant to face the truth, or perhaps these memories had just meant something so dear to me, as if opening an old box of letters from a loved one, rereading times of before.

Trust me; I'm not trying to press the pause button in memories that will never happen again, I know where I stand, I know where I'm moving, I know my true North. Sometimes it's just nice to find peace in a simple memory, like cutting pictures out and placing them in a collage; my own personal collage I like to think, just something intimate for me and no one else, to remind me, remind me that I'm still human.

"nothing but memories; just something to look at like a painting of Paris." - Ryan D.