Choose to remember or try desperately to forget…

In between those two acts of living… I sleep, breathing in silence and exhaling my days… what is this persistence of memory? Dream a dream and by the light of morning the images will melt away, no matter the effort we attempt to grasp them…

They never happened or existed…

Try as I might to place myself in that time… only results in fanfares of distorted and often dim images of fantastic landscapes in warm colors…… and I am missing… because I was never there in the first place… just old photographs underwater beneath a bridge that stands between there… and my waking moments…

The breath of being apart from there brushes against the skin…

It whispers that fantasy is not far from reality…

To be a part of the night, not apart from it… while others are sleeping… exist with no exits… letting the soul dance to the Claire De Lune, become drunk on the intoxicating exchange of speech and let spirits free you from inhibitions…

That you have painted the town red many of times before, that on this night the color to remember will have nothing to do with the town nor the sounds of the streets… but from connection…

Be there with her… look into her eyes… realize that it is all happening… forget what you know…  let your imagination run wild… and should she ever ask what you remember about the night we met…

Boldly whisper… I will always remember you… it was a dream I shall not easily forget.