Why does the past comfort us with its warm feather like cloak? Sometimes, even looking at old photographs reduces tension in my shoulder muscles and I find myself swimming in memories. They play in my head like glimpses on a film reel with a faded filter. They sooth my mind, make me feel familiar, nostalgic and even seem mysterious to me.
Where do the moments, dates and years that we live actually go? I feel, we pass through them like we pass through water. The time still remains there, the words we say still hang in the air , the laughter and sobs still echo somewhere in the Universe, only to be lived again in the form of memories.