Memory is a fragile thing. Memories – a tenuous affair
You want to hold it close and sheltered within the walls of that skeletal structure looming over your shoulders.
You do too. Voluntary, involuntary.
But, then it has its own way of escaping, it slips out of the bounds and becomes the gentle air, floats around you, engulfs you. It’s like that wine, matured over the years, reeling your senses into the realm where unreal is more real.
Do you want to lose yourself? Do you even have a choice?