Flowerwings

Going to a place like Paris and trying not to forget anything: the smell, the feeling, the noise, how small you felt and how overwhelmed it all made you feel. But you hold on to these things so tight that as soon as you relax your grip, they squirm out. Not all at once, but you know they’re diminishing, until you forget almost everything. All I want to do is go back and replenish these memories, but I have no way of knowing when that will be, or if I’ll ever go back. I just want to feel the breeze.