Pause.

I changed my route home again. After all, the old one was what I was more familiar with. Or maybe it was just the more comfortable way to take, even though unconsciously I was already forgetting it. How could I not think I was already forgetting when I stood there melting under the setting sun, letting all vehicles pass me by, knowing each of them was not what I should take, but maybe not knowing which to take in the first place. Or maybe I was just busy thinking, remembering, trying to recount the very many times I had been right there at that place, ending so many beautiful days. I could almost hear the conversations I had had. I almost wished the people I had had the conversations with were there.

I realised it was impossible to forget the old route as long as it was impossible for me to forget the memories. Right now I am acknowledging what has been stabbing through my chest every now and then lately. This feeling too is familiar, but this time it is most intense. But to focus on it is wrong at least this early. There are many, many things to do. They take me away from my musing and check always that my sense of reality is in place. But I believe they will bring back what feeling they distract me from in just a little while. And by that time the worries will have already been joys.

So I struggle to focus now, hoping I will not lose all that I am feeling until when I can afford to immense myself in it.