pour laisser place aux rêves de douceur.

hey it's just me. and my worn out shoes.
but maybe together, you and i, we can find something beautiful on the horizon.



dear owlheart,

i've always imagined human's memories are tiny stuffs kept in a carved wooden chest stored in an insignificant corner somewhere in the chambers of mind. i don't know if it's just me or you do too, but every now and then i add dry flowers and a little bit of vanilla scent inside. at times i tint them with shades of rose color, and a little bit of purples and yellows. no, if you ask, i'm not lying to myself. i guess it's just me being me.

and it's sort of funny, isnt it? how a single sight of someone or something opens that chest, and the pieces of memories you thought you'd left behind are flooding your thought like the sight from a train window and make you happy and sad at the same time and make you want to remember and forget at the same time?

there are also black and white memories which are nearly untouchable. you know, the kind of memory that makes you feel like you're half asleep squinting your eyes at your car window during the storm? you're not sure if it's real, but you know that it is there, hidden, burried in the back of your mind. you know it somehow has become a part of who you are.

and blurry hazy memories. as if you're looking with an unfocused camera. as if you come into contact with that fragments of your life rollercoastering. you only remember a glance of technicolor movements and resonating sounds and elusive scents and splash of passions. but it's enough to make you happy at the end of the day.

and there is a place, in the deeper side of the chest, where unpredicted memories are kept. it's like when you take it out with care and open the case and suddenly you're looking at some parts of you that you left behind; the more youthful you. like you've left your younger reflections on the lake and finally after you traveled to faraway places and see the world has changed, and you have changed, then you come back to see your old, younger reflection preserved. it makes you feel strange and familiar.

and dear owlheart, don't be upset. i made a part of the chest airy so it can fuse with the memory when i daydream. or halfsleep-driving.

how thin the crust between dreaming and memories inside my head.