I'm not someone given to endless reminiscence, don't get me wrong, but right now I'm joining the collective thoughts of thousands as they dream and drip awake their past. And we're both captive and jailor of all those little moments, moments suddenly infused with significance as the year turns again.
Memory can be an evil little fiend.
By the way, don't go mistaking my mood for anything maudlin if sourness slips from my tongue here and there, I simply feel like writing, I feel a certain way.
It's as dark as the proverbial graveyard at midnight - yeah complete with all necessary Gothic accessories; owls a-hooting, amber eyes blinking from the gloom, oh and let's add a mist-covered moon over windblown branches, although this particular part of Central London bears less resemblance to a Gothic movie set than, say, downtown Detroit. Yet the world is still very much awake, resurgent even, alive already!
Can you feel it too?
There's something in the atmosphere, swirling like the asomatous form of the ghost of Christmas past. Mnemonic eyes and clothing patched with memories. All you can do is grasp onto those coat-tails for the ride.
And so, I'm thinking about everyone I have loved -these particular phantoms know who they are. You... hmm... yes, I love you still. My heart has moved on, but you know that I will always feel a little affection when your name is spoken, don't you? You know that what we have shared and seen and fought over has an eternal resonance I simply can't escape. You have become a part of me and I'm going to carry you with me, like it or not.
But that's for another night.