Streets of the past

The clock turns left as I became a tourist from the past. A memory clouds my mind with the illusion of your presence.

The music and the lights take over the scene. Despite the embarrassment, I stand up to share a song. The clumsy steps and twirls give me a smile that lasts all night.

The buzzing of the blades and the radiant yellow light replace the environment. The vibration of the mobile catches my attention with a message of which I had lost hope. 

I continue to wander in the streets of the past.

The messages turned into part of the routine, but as I go on, distant until they end with a greeting.

I go back to the beginning, our beginning.

      Leila V.