memories

Memories are funny little things.

things you have overlooked at the time, seem to engrave itself more than the subject of the memory itself. the way the wind blew, how the place smelled, how the sun shined thru that gap, the music that was playing...

all those fragile, seemingly irrelevant things.

they seem to be more evident as the memory itself becomes distant.

Perhaps the rush of time and its sheer force erodes away this... mind-carved stone called your past, and gradually the things inside it, the more subtle things starts to emerge as the surface engravings begins to fade.

and all those fragile things, could be the most beautiful ones. like how some stones have those purple crystals in them. You could perhaps get them by cracking them open, but it's almost impossible.