Petrichor, once more

autumn leaves after rain

As I am writing here, rain has returned to the bay. Hills over my shoulder are sleeping, tucked in fog and cloud. This time every year my mind becomes overactive, and creatively wanders on muddy paths, jumps in puddles, rescues fallen leaves, wipes off raindrops on the blurry windows of nostalgia, whispers to the rose bushes, hugs a sad tree, and opens up the refrigerator door multiple times to get some food for thoughts. Continue reading “Petrichor, once more”

Petrichor…

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It happens. There are things we remember exactly when we are not supposed to remember them- no matter how carefully we guard them all the time, no matter what precautions we take, no matter how many mothballs we hide in each layer of our anecdotes to preserve them. There will be a thin light through the cracks of the mind, or that’s what I heard. There will always be a memory enveloped in a beaming present. Continue reading “Petrichor…”