Well, memories are sometimes called dreams. How can we be sure that it exists even? The outpour, the words, the feelings, are they or have they existed?
God knows who we are in this world. God knows what we will become in this world. Dear future me, I guess my memory is failing me and perhaps the same for you too.
Mintxchocolate. Have you actually read it? Have you actually seen it? Are you even sure? Perhaps, it's all just a dream. Something which existed, but no longer exists, something which perhaps never existed in the first place, but was dreamed up in rhetoric.
Alas, after we dream, we shall wake up, for we are alive. We are living beings. We have witnessed how time flows, people, relationships and impermanence. Like a passing train, like a falling sakura petal, what is there, will one day no longer be there, no matter how long we were to wait.
Just take it all as a dream, sometimes sweet and sometimes bitter, but a dream not to be relived.
Can you hear the bells ringing? The crossing is closing, for the train to pass. It stops, and the train is no longer seen again.
Who goes there? No one in particular. The End.
