ericjoy, you leave it by the wayside and remember remembering it until you don't. or you pluck it for yourself or another, which is a funny thing to do because then it remembers remembering itself until it doesn't. sadness is the sound of remembering remembering
ericthere is water and the sky fossil's rippling white with moments of inertia disguised as frozen time, there is the mirror's eternal flower and softly the scent dissolves and I will ache for an ancient home but distance is how I've known the way and heavensward the barriers of every day
ccnAn ambient moth on the bench dimly lit by blinking fireflies, on a trip to the golden cherry.
ericwistful, everything's so wistful, or I am and everything is as always. but how can the light be so gentle and not recall a thousand ghosts? how can the winter beckon in july and I fall foward into it, more familiar than family
ericevery time unworlded and reworlded everything's a bit less
erici used to find a lot of solace in this thing
erica separation at the beginning of time, or the calcified ghosts, moon-sized, collapsing into the earth