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.
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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