Nothing is as I remember. But what do I remember? What I thought I knew, but didn’t. What I thought went missing, but may never have had to begin with. The empty space that my memory carved in the outline of an image. Attached to a feeling without the memory of why. I try to draw it out. I search for the original meaning. But nothing will bring that back. And there is nothing left to hold on to, because there is nothing left to remember. But I keep hanging on. I’ll keep hanging on. Let the wisps in the fog of things long gone wash over me and know – sometimes a feeling is all we need.