Browsing through photos, memories sweep through my mind like feathers in the wind.
I guess this is how it is… for a moment your eyes fix on the feather, captured by its simple beauty as it floats in the air.
It speaks of something else- a shadow of the past.
The mere sight of it draws you back to that moment… the cool wind brushing once again against your skin.
You catch the feather in your hand, breathe in its smell,
and slip it into a box of keepsakes, holding the memory close.
I suppose that’s what I’m doing- filling my box of memories.
These photographs,
these words,
these sketches, journals, and videos are each an elusive feather that brings me back to a moment past.
As I walk forward in life,
from time to time I’ll open this wooden box, sort through it again,
and remember.
