17.7.11

[the roads we were through]


There are moment, peculiar moments when you go through the very steps you once walked, the odors you once smelled and the things you once touched. Time brought its alteration, and memory its loss. But everything is still there, almost untouched, un-breathed and un-felt. 


I was there once, with the same smell of dirt within the rain, with the same rust beneath my touch and the same ground under my feet. If you asked me how it was then, I guess I couldn't remember exactly. There are times like roads you once took and will always recognize at first glance.


 


I was there once.