So many days, hundreds of them were murdered by my weak human memory. And yet, somehow, so many moments remain, preserved, immortalized deep, deep in me.

It’s a festival of playbacks in my head; a festival where all these moments attack at once. As I live here now I’m not really alive. I’m never alive unless I live in those moments which keep living deep, deep in me.

I used to be sad that I couldn’t remember days. But I barely survive these moments I remember so how, how the hell would I have survived entire days?

Sharing a quick moment with you while I’m on the go.
Sara.