There are all these traces left in the spaces around us. Crammed into little crevices between what is there and what used to be there are the pieces that we remember. They are fluid and manage to blend around whatever new thing is constructed. And maybe that new thing blends with it and becomes another layer of that memory. The memories are malleable enough that depending on which angle we look at them, they can mean or be different things. What once was painful can later be full of strength. Parts are removed and adapt to what we need at the time.
I'm a walking storehouse of memories and the potential for new ones. The thoughts explode out of me and everything I see is covered with a thin layer of myself. The areas around me are the past, present and future regardless of the physical shape they take. It's all just transparent and nothing is really a barrier so long as I don't allow it to be that way.
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