Everything feels fine, apart from the occasional pangs of anxiety, or fear, or frustration when that incident speeds through the mind, just as if the snatch thief were to appear once again.
Be it in the midst of a music jam, a diary write, or getting lost in the pounding and cheery beats of OMAM, or in the wee hours of the night: as I write a recount of day two’s evening and the bamboo pipe tobacco, I remembered taking a snap of one of the bros trying it out. And I fear. After this round’s reboot of the phone, I thought I had backed up the photos on to the laptop and never did I expect the folders would be empty despite having backed up the photos and all! How frustrating. What scares me is…. what if, like a phone — the memory starts failing? Does that mean it is forgetting?
In the seconds that scamper through the shadows of fear, I attempted to ration out my breaths; burying my face in the pillow, much as I would like to bury this fear within, so deep it might be forgotten. And then I remembered to breathe, I think.
Never day goodbye, because goodbye means going away, and going away means forgetting.