a finite beauty;
youth is giving way.
the diaphanous spirit
does not remain
naive, tender, passionate.
Time erases the smiles
and etches a crease between the brow.
The exhilarating twinkle in the unbeknown eye
is now gone.

Photographs, Poetry, Writing



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It’s quite interesting how subjective a person becomes when looking back on his or her life. Some memories leave a ruminating unease, an unease not completely different from that of a nightmare. They seem so far away. This unease probably comes from the subconscious horror upon realizing how time can decay any memory it chooses. After all, it is easier to let go of a fleeting memory that causes one to suffer.


Portrait of a Childhood