Memories

Old memories, old photos...

Like the snowflakes that the spring warmth melts, but which come back every November in shapes and sizes different from before, but just as recognizable and precious. Almost unchanged, just adapted to who you have become during the past sunny months.

And so you miss the times when you could ride a giraffe whenever you want to. Maybe it's my approaching 18th birthday that makes me turn back for a moment and stare in amazement at things I thought I didn't have.

...and the present is slipping into the past too. Although the time is just like Tiziano Terzani wrote: a river, where the past, the present and the future coexist simultaneously.