In darkness, with a glimpse of light

I wish, she said –

I wish people were like a roll of film.

A roll of film? I asked.

Yes. The negatives.

By the way –

Isn’t it weird how it’s called that?

Captured memories on film

Something you can’t erase

It’s called a negative.

Doesn’t it pull you down, sometimes?

The memories are like an anchor.

A brick, a scar.

It doesn’t allow you to forget.

It is, then, a negative. In a way.

Your mind works in wonders, I said.

It seems to be a never-ending, pulsating

twist from an ordinary tale.

Maybe, she replied.


Maybe it’s all a dream, a fantasy, a lullaby.

And maybe we’re all waiting for the fall of the curtains, the encore.

The conclusion.

Please tell me how the story goes.


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